


I Don't Care At All

by BlackHogwartsWrites (vashtishacklebolt)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Activism, Angst, F/M, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-11-21 19:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 21,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vashtishacklebolt/pseuds/BlackHogwartsWrites
Summary: Here's a collection of writing fragments that tell the coming-of-age story of Lily Evans, a regular teenager in the UK in the 1970s, except that she's a witch. Angst abounds, you've been warned.





	1. Chapter 1

1976

Autumn

 

“Prime Minister Callaghan will address the Inquiry at Scotland Yard over the riots at Notting Hill Carnival later today… In other news, tensions between increased British troop and IRA paramilitary in County Armagh were exacerbated yesterday by mystery men, who appeared to be neither IRA nor British Army. Described as wearing black cloaks and masks over their faces, they were seen in the area just before the discovery of five Catholics murdered at a desolate roadside. Green fireworks also appeared to have been set off nearby, no word as of yet whether the two events are related. National Security is expected to release a statement within the hour…”

Lily picked up the clunky old wireless in the kitchen and held it under her arm as she slipped up the back stairs to the bathroom on the second floor of number 72 Charnwood Street. She set it down on the toilet lid and turned up the volume, but the news-caster had already moved on. She turned to open the narrow window above the bathtub and lit a cigarette, settling down on the sill and sticking her head out the window as she took a drag.

“--Flooding on several major roadways is due to the torrential downpours that have followed the nearly three-month long drought…”  Lily took another drag.

It was quiet in the house. It had been quiet ever since Petunia had gotten her new job in the typing pool at that drill-manufacturer in Surrey. She liked to say that she simply had to go that far because there was no work in Birmingham. But she had moved out at almost the same time that Lily had arrived back in their parents’ Cokeworth home in June. Anything to get as far away from Lily as possible.

It was just Lily and her dad now. Lily stubbed out her cigarette. It was just about time to pack up the car, get on the road to London. Lily switched off the radio and padded back to her room. Her trunk sat on the floor, open, strewn with school robes, eyelet blouses, tee-shirts, high-waisted jeans, a lacy bra, and stacks and stacks and stacks of books.

Lily kicked a broken quill aside as she strode over to her roll-top desk. She couldn’t help but glance, for the thousandth time that year, at the framed picture that sat on the corner.

A smiling woman with almond-shaped green eyes and dark red hair tucked into a fashionable silk scarf, looking into the camera lens.

Lily turned back to her trunk, threw her clothes in haphazardly, stacked her books on top of them, and shut the lid.

 


	2. Chapter 2

In an empty compartment, Lily stowed her trunk under her seat and pulled her sweater out of her rucksack. She tugged it on over her head and readjusted the clips that kept her hair out of her eyes. She sat down again and pulled her rucksack toward her, and, pulling out her cigarettes and her wand, she lit up just as someone rapped on the door.

“Yeah,” she answered. The door slid open and Sirius Black poked his head through.

“There you are, darling,” he grinned crookedly. Lily rolled her eyes as Sirius pulled the rest of himself inside.

“I hope you brought enough for the whole class,” he said as he flopped down opposite her, kicking his feet up on her bench. She tossed her pack of cigarettes at him, and he caught it with one hand. He pulled one out, placed it between his lips, took out his wand, and lit it.

“Since when do you smoke,” he asked, puffing on his cigarette, taking a drag as he slid the window open.

“Did you have a fun summer?” asked Lily avoidantly.

“Chez Potter? Jolly good, home-cooked meals, quidditch every day,” Sirius said.

Lily glanced up at Sirius but his eyes were closed.

“Sharing a bedroom with my best friend Prongs and all that.”

“You mean James?” said Lily, in a strained voice, as if she’d run out of breath saying the one-syllable word. She studied her chipped nail polish closely.

“Yes, I mean James,” Sirius clarified carelessly, eyes still closed. Lily leaned back to watch the scenery fly past the window. They were now out of the city and careening freely through the countryside. There were cows and barns and fields and rivers. Lily sighed.

“Not sitting with Snivellous this year,” said Sirius, his eyes open again, trained on the cieling.

“We aren’t friends anymore,” said Lily. “Not after last year.”

“Well, good show losing all that extra weight, love, it suits you,” Sirius chuckled. He trained his steely gray eyes on her, and she met them, refusing to look away.

“What about you,” she asked, flicking her ashes out the open window. “What’s different this year?”

Sirius shrugged. “Well, for starters, I have to serve about a hundred detentions starting the moment we pull into the station.”

Lily frowned. “What did you do to earn a hundred detentions?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, darling,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Just then, the compartment door flew open and Potter appeared. He was wearing a simple black day robe over an old, stained quidditch jersey, jeans, and lace-up ankle boots like Lily’s dad would wear to work. His hair was messy and his glasses were crooked, and he seemed all angles and sun-tanned forearms, cheeks flushed with the outdoor activity of an entire summer.

“Padfoot, put that out before a prefect sees you,” said Potter, looking down at Sirius, who gave him a disgruntled look and tossed the butt out the window. Potter looked up then, and met eyes with Lily. She looked down at her thighs, and picked idly at a hole in her nylons.

“Alright, Evans,” he said gruffly. Lily tossed her cigarette butt out the window and, curling her hands into her sleeves, crossed her arms.

“Alright, n’ you,” she said shortly, not looking at him. He grunted in response and turned back to Sirius.

“Now, you’ve had your fix, Pads. Wor-- Pete’s in back, we’ll meet up with Remus when he’s off-duty.” Sirius stood up and clapped his hands together.

“Right then, I’m off, love,” he said, with a cool little wave in Lily's direction. “Cheerio.” He followed Potter out into the corridor, letting the door slam behind him. Lily leaned back into the seat, and sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

“So who is this again,” said Mary, as she unscrewed the cap on small bottle of firewhisky, and indicating the voice and the thin guitar that had started to peel out of the speaker on the enchanted turntable.

“The Raincoats,” said Lily. Mary took a swig and gulped, and breathed in sharply before passing the bottle to Lily, who took a sip.

“The drums on this are well good,” said Mary. “Glad they didn’t change the pronouns on this cover of Lola, either.”

“Yeah,” said Lily, taking another swig from the bottle. They were lying on Lily’s bed in the Gryffindor dormitory in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. It would probably be the last warm day of September. The windows were open, and a pleasant breeze tossed the curtains to and fro.

“This essay has me knackered,” said Mary, talking about the homework they’d started, but hadn’t finished. “I much prefer this activity.”

Lily chuckled. She did too. Not working on the first essay of the term made her a bit nervous, but having a drink made her feel better. She put one arm behind her head as Mary settled further into the sheets.

“Someday,” said Mary, as Lily gave her the bottle. “Someday I’ll be like the women on this record. I’ll play me guitar on the best stages in Glasgow, then Edinburgh, then London. Then I’ll go to Tokyo, New York, LA. I’ll be famous. Like Kate Bush.”

Mary and Lily took simultaneous breaths and sang: “ _Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy, I’m come home, and I’m so co-ho-ho-hold--_ ” They broke down in giggles.

“Cheers to that, bab,” Lily said, and Mary raised the bottle in salute, before tilting it to her lips again.

“Ah love her song,” said Mary, wiping her mouth, then running a hand through her dark fringe. “You still want to be a doctor,” she asked.

Lily made a face. She made a note of the use of the word doctor, instead of healer, and was comforted by Mary’s muggleness. It made her feel at-home. She felt a strong surge of affection for her.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” said Lily. Her mind flashed to her mother, the white room, the tubes, the pills, the cold machines blinking and whirring and breathing for her. _No_ , thought Lily. _I really don’t want to be anywhere near that, muggle or magical._

“You don’t have to decide now,” said Mary. She tapped her foot in time to the music, and Lily mulled over her words. _You don’t have to decide now._ Now was good just for listening to records and drinking firewhisky with Mary MacDonald in the sixth year dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, the autumn sun filtering in, the cool breeze picking up the curtains and moving the warm air that gathered in the room, Lily’s sheets strewn over the bed. Lily smiled and tapped her finger against the glass bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

Lily screamed.

Her arms were wrapped around Gideon’s neck as he careened down the hill. The wind and sun were in her face, making her eyes tear up, and the terror of falling over, the two of them, her arms around his neck, his arms hooked under legs, their collective weight turning them into a perfect physics experiment, not that Gideon would know what that was-- perhaps she could have her father explain to him about physics, if Gideon got to meet her dad--

Gideon stopped and spun around, and the terror of falling over bubbled into hysterical laughter. He stopped at the tree line, where the birch and the oak were shedding their brown and yellow leaves. He let her down and she stumbled to the side and put her weight against a tree. She took several steadying breaths. Gideon, himself flushed, his eyes sparkling, was catching his breath too.

Several boys ran past, their sports padding bouncing with every step. They were lugging equipment with them.

"Practice starts in ten, Prewett," one of them shouted. Gideon waved. He turned back to Lily, who had straightened up. One of those boys was Potter, who’d not given her a second glance. His behavior was surely strange this term.

"Alright, doll," said Gideon. Lily was surprised when he grabbed her waist and kissed her full on the mouth. Lily breathed in quickly, but before she could register anything, Gideon was off, bouncing after the other Quidditch boys. She touched her face.

Later, over her books in the library, she remembered the smell of his mouth on hers, the heat of his lips, the warmth of his hands on her hips. An odd tingling somewhere in her body. She smiled.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

“If you turn to page twenty-nine of your books, you’ll be making the Belladonna Brew for your open-book exam. Now, Borage reminds us that the poison Belladonna, or Deadly Nightshade, when used sparingly, can be a remarkable restorative…”

Lily opened up her Potions kit and began setting out her tools while Slughorn continued to elaborate on the task he’d set. She let her long red hair hang like a curtain over her face as she set up her work station. Severus was just a table over and up to her right, and she could feel him trying to catch her eye.

They hadn’t spoken since that day by the lake last term. Lily shook her head slightly at the thought of it.

And, for the briefest flicker of a moment, she wondered if she’d made a mistake, if she ought to repair what had been riven that day.

But her mind flashed back to that last stomach-turning proper interaction, if you could call it proper, with Severus hanging upside down in the air, his pants exposed, and the sneer on James’s face as he bargained for a date with Lily, the way his face contorted as she threw the perfect comeback. _I’d rather go out with the giant squid…_

Lily felt a secret, bitter smile bloom on her lips, and quickly wiped it from her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“...toxins such as lily-of-the-valley," Slughorn droned on, "which produces abdominal pain, vomiting, and reduced heart rate…”

Lily opened her book to the Belladonna Brew and began grinding down dried Belladonna berries into as fine a grain as possible. The more she focused on the task at hand, the less likely her mind was to wander to a certain former best friend.

Slughorn was walking between the desks, inspecting students’ work.

“Easy on the Dragon’s Blood, Chang. Snape, please, stay on task, it’s most unlike you to be distracted.”

Lily chanced a glance. Severus was bent over his book bag, where he was struggling to put away a number of pamphlets that had large block-printed red lettering on their covers. Lily frowned, but before she could properly determine what she was seeing, Slughorn ambled into view in front of her.

“Ah Miss Evans! Once again your skills are on display to their best advantage! If only you’d been in my house!”

Lily, surprised, spoke before thinking:

“Oh, well, we could put the Sorting Hat on again, but hats really do wreak havoc on my hair, so…”

Lily felt a hot flush creep up her neck but Slughorn laughed jovially before moving on to the work stations behind her. Looking up, Lily could see both Snape and Potter on opposite sides of the room, giving her strange looks. Lily bowed her head and focused her attention on using her wand to prod a fire into life under her cauldron.


	6. Chapter 6

Lily was sitting on the edge of the sink in the third floor girls’ loo.

She swung her legs up, and positioned her feet in the sink. It felt weird, but nice. This way she could look closely at her own face in the mirror: study her pores, her imperfections, and swipe on some very dark, very red lipstick. It looked so strange on her normally bare face. She felt she was putting on a mask. Armor. She felt she was preparing to go into battle. Battle against boys. Battle against girls. Battle against the forces of society, of the future, of the desires that adults projected onto people her age. She felt she was carving out an image of herself, making herself into a real girl.

Someone walked in. Brown skin, dark brown eyes, button nose. Long legs stuck out from a glittery mini dress. Black curls formed a halo around her head. She glanced at Lily, pursed her lips, and strode up to the next sink over. She ran the tap and put her hands under the water. Her bangles clacked against each other.

“Going to the party on the astronomy tower?” she asked. Now she began to pluck at her voluminous black curls, pulling and pinching them into place.

Lily murmured assent, and took out her pack of cigarettes. She pulled one out and lit it with her wand.

“What’s that,” said the girl.

“it’s called a cigarette,” said Lily. She took a drag, sucked in the smoke and let it unfurl from her nostrils. “Want one?”

The girl regarded the proffered cigarette with suspicion before taking it. _Must be a pureblood_ , thought Lily.

“It’s like a pipe,” Lily clarified. “That you can dispose of.”

“Why would you want to dispose of a pipe,” said the girl, putting it in her mouth backwards. Lily plucked it from between her lips and turned it around, placed it correctly between the girl’s lips, and pointed her wand at it. The girl breathed in and coughed.

“It’s nasty,” she complained. Lily shrugged.

“So’s that pipe wizards smoke. Right reasty.”

The girl took a few more puffs. Lily held out her hand.

“Lily Evans,” she said.

“Dorcas Shacklebolt,” said the girl, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

Lily threw her legs back over the edge of the sink and hopped down, stubbing her cigarette on the porcelain edge and tossing it in a toilet.

“Better put it out before a prefect catches you,” said Lily.

Dorcas winked. “Good thing I’ve got connections.”


	7. Chapter 7

"What’s this, what’s this?" laughed Gideon.

One arm was wrapped around Lily’s waist, and the other was tickling her behind her ear. He was picking up locks of her dark red hair and pretending to eat them. She was giggling madly. What was it about Gideon that had her laughing and giggling without a care in the world? That made her feel liked and cherished? What was it, in general, about boys that made her feel like finally she was the center of the world, if only things would stay where they were?

Gideon squeezed her thigh. Lily made a face of mock indignity. Her thigh was bare. She felt tantalized by the suggestion created by the presence of his hand on her bare thigh, but she felt it was appropriate to cover that desire over with a thick layer of propriety. As proper as a girl could be, sitting on a boy’s lap.

"You did amazing today," said Lily. "Your save at the last minute was truly professional."

Gideon shrugged and smiled at Lily.

"At least I get my own one-woman cheering section out of the whole bit." Lily laughed. It was such a relief to spend time with a boy who wasn’t a preening arse.

"I’m sure you have more than one woman in your cheering section," giggled Lily.

“What do you take me for?” Gideon gasped, his smile widening. He squeezed at Lily’s ribs, and she doubled over with laughter, squirming in his lap as he laughed. “Some kind of polygamist, eh?"

"A free love hippie, that’s what you are," laughed Lily, as she threw an arm around his shoulders. Gideon bit his lip as he ran a hand through her hair.

“Is that a muggle thing, then?" he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily could spot his gaze turned in her direction. Potter could see her, she knew it, was watching, maybe even felt jealous. Good. Lily bent forward as if to kiss Gideon, whose mouth suddenly went slack in anticipation, but she made a detour, and kissed his cheek instead. Across the room, Potter made an almost imperceptible movement, as if to get off the couch. Instead he looked away, turning his attention back to the game of Exploding Snap he was playing with his friends.

Lily glanced over at him, then buried her face in Gideon’s neck, who held her tight, and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t care about that maggot when she had something utterly perfect right in front of her, someone who was everything he wasn’t, someone who was fearless in his affection for her.


	8. Chapter 8

Moving across the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at five in the afternoon on a friday felt eerie. Everyone she knew was at Quidditch practice, or down by the lake doing homework or ingesting illicit materials, all things Lily would prefer to be doing instead of going to her first ever detention.

Lily opened the door to Professor Asante’s office. She expected to see Professor Asante seated behind her desk in a stark room with one other desk just for Lily to write a hundred lines by hand, lines like, “Essays are assigned to encourage engagement with the material,” or “Ranting screeds on unrelated, if pertinent topics will not be accepted as Homework Substitutes or Supplements” or something to that effect.

Instead, Lily found Professor Asante not seated, but bustling around an upright printing press, moving about trays of tiny metal letters. Before her stood three other students. Dorcas Shacklebolt, Mary MacDonald, and a brown-skinned boy with a kind, open face-- a Hufflepuff student she didn’t recognize. Except she knew he was a prefect. Lily swallowed.

Professor Asante beckoned for Lily to put down her things and gather around the printing press.

“So, this is how Asante gets the posters plastered all over her classroom,” Lily muttered to Mary. “She prints them herself.”

“Yeah it’d be well cool,” said Mary. “If it weren’t detention.”

At this Dorcas snickered. She met Lily’s eyes for a moment, before looking away again.

“Alright, settle down,” said Professor Asante. “You’ll be assisting me in printing a poster that presents the boggart, its corresponding defensive mechanism, and the spell _riddikulus_. I’ve laid it all out here.”

Asante explained to them how to put the letters in the tray backwards, because when they were ready to be printed, they’d be slathered in the ink that Mary and her friend were preparing, and be pressed on a large piece of paper, coming out the right way round. The process, while adapted from muggle technology, allowed the poster to be duplicated, but unlike the _gemino_ spell, its existence would not hinge upon the life of the wizard. The duplicated object would last forever. An enchanted printing press helped to quicken and streamline the process.

Asante began setting down a collection of objects. She set Mary and the boy to mixing ink and sorting little metal letters, and Dorcas and Lily to setting the letters, what she called “sorts,” into things called “composing sticks” on a sort of tray, following a layout Asante designed and wrote out by hand. They had to be careful not to mix up p’s, q’s, b’s, and d’s.

“What are you in for,” said Dorcas as they worked.

“I accidentally handed in something that wasn’t homework. I wrote something else instead. What about you?”

“For nicking something out of a teacher’s office.”

“What was it then,” Lily asked. Dorcas didn’t seem like the type to get into trouble. Lily was curious. Dorcas took a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. Lily glanced at Asante, who was on the other side of the room, sketching in a notebook. Lily bent down to examine the pamphlet, a collection of inflammatory articles with titles like _Former Minister Jenkins’ Reported Love Child with a Squib_ , _Mudbloods Run Out of Puddlemere_ — _Crime Rate Drops_ , and _Malfoy Makes Strides for Pro-Pure Legislation as Minchum Fumbles Muggle Protection Committee_. All under the masthead _Blood Dispatch_ in large red block-printed letters.

Lily was suddenly cautious. The headlines made her feel queasy.

“You don’t… agree--”

“No!” said Dorcas quickly. I saw Mulciber with it, so I knew it was trouble, and when I came across a copy, I wanted to investigate further. But McGonagall caught me, and--”

"Yeah," said Lily in a low voice, narrowing her eyes. "So you thought you’d save your own skin.”

Dorcas sighed. “Basically,” she confirmed. “But it’s not just that." She tapped the cover of the pamphlet. "I was trying to think what could be done about it. We can’t let this go unchallenged."

The earnestness in Dorcas’s voice made Lily relax a bit in spite of herself. Slytherin she might be, but she didn’t act like one. Most of the time.

“So why are you here?” Dorcas asked, taking the pamphlet and shoving it in her bag.

“Funny enough, it’s what I wrote about.” And Lily pulled out her crumpled parchment from her pocket and handed it to Dorcas, who smoothed it out, and read it. Her eyes lit up.

"This is amazing," said Dorcas, turning it over.

“I handed this in by accident. I was supposed to write an essay, and I wrote this instead. That pamphlet just made me livid.”

Dorcas beamed. “It’s wonderful! If only everyone could read this instead of-- _that."_

Lily looked down at the type they were setting. An idea came alive in her mind, like a match being lit, or a spark catching dry wood.

“Well, we could make that happen, couldn’t we,” said Lily. Dorcas met her eyes.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Lily bent down to inspect what looked like evening primrose. Just blooming here, now, in the gathering twilight as the sun sank lower behind the mountains.

She took her cigarette from her mouth and opened her notebook and made a quick line-drawing of it.

She’d have to stop soon, as dinner was approaching, and the darkness was gathering on the edge of the forest.

But she liked it here, at this hour. The deepening quiet, the energy that lived in the dark. The bugs buzzing to and fro, the birds and bats flitting through the branches, the animals that lit through the undergrowth. A hare, a doe. By the edge of the lake, a turtle, a snake among the flowers that were closing for the day, or opening for the moon.

Lily blew on the ink to quicken its drying, and she pulled up one flower and placed it between the pages of her notebook. She stood, took a drag of her cigarette, took out her wand, and vanished the butt.

 

* * *

 

Lily was practically running.

This time, the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom wasn’t eerie. It was promising. She was full of electricity. She felt it pushing her relentlessly forward, thrilling her with possibility.

She burst into Asante’s office at the back of the classroom. She was met with the powerful smell of ink, linseed oil, and the turpentine used to clean the mixing palettes.

Mary, Dorcas, and Alfred, the Hufflepuff from detention, looked up from what they were doing. The printing press chugged away, spitting something out.

“Where’s Professor Asante?” Lily asked as she put down her bag.

Dorcas answered. “She went to the Great Hall.”

“It’s well kind of her to let us use her press when she’s not around,” said Mary as she went to grab what was coming off the plate.

Lily held her hand out to take it. It was the broadside they’d designed together, using Lily’s writing, and Alfred’s editing, and Dorcas’s layout. Her words were pressed neatly into the cream-colored heavy cardstock in dark blue ink. It was real, and there were hundreds of them.

At the table, Alfred was numbering them. Lily sat down beside him and picked up a pencil, and began to assist him.

“It got me thinking, too,” he said. “You know, reading it over and over.” Lily nodded encouragingly.

“Well, you know, being muggleborn, I don’t know, I’ve got a lot of thoughts on what’s going on right now.”

Lily felt a spark inside, like something catching fire. She sat up straight.

“Well, let's brainstorm. See what we come up with.”

She grinned, mostly to herself with the excitement of the thing, but when she looked up, she realized that Alfred was smiling, and so were Dorcas and Mary.

Laughing, Lily asked, “What is it?”

Mary and Dorcas exchanged looks, before Mary answered, “Dunno, guess it’s just-- it feels like we’re on to something.”

Dorcas nodded, and said, “We’ll hand these out at the Hogsmeade visit. Less interference from teachers that way."

“Maybe you should read from it,” said Mary, turning to Lily, beaming.

“Wha--me?” stuttered Lily. She felt as if she were deflating slightly.

“Yeah” said Mary. “You wrote it. There will be lots of people at the Three Broomsticks, and we'll get a chance to see what people think of it.”

“In Hogsmeade? At the Three Broomsticks?” Lily felt a little bewildered, but as she imagined it, standing in front of her classmates, hearing them applaud thoughts that  _she'd_ thought, taking, and keeping, and reading a broadside  _her friends_ had designed, and proofed, and printed; she began to fill up again, with electricity, and pure energy, and light.

They were all in accord. Dorcas dug up a box and began stacking the freshly printed broadsides inside.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’ve spoken to Madam Rosmerta,” Dorcas said into Lily’s ear. They were standing by the bar in the Three Broomsticks, looking at the dais at the back of the room, which was lit by the sunbeams spilling from the skylight. Lily was clutching the broadside, and swallowing big gulps of air.

“I need a drink,” she mumbled. “Think Madam Rosmerta would begrudge me a cigarette? For the nerves, of course.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Dorcas, patting Lily on the shoulder and pushing her forward. If she thought about it, Lily could not honestly remember seeing the dais there before. She stepped up onto it, lit by the sun.

Looking out on the crowd of students and teachers drinking butterbeer and generally talking and laughing loudly, she pointed her wand at her throat to magically magnify her voice. When she spoke, her voice filled the room.

“Can I have your attention? I-- I have s--something really important to say.”

Lily cleared her throat. She caught Mary’s eye; Mary smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Lily looked down at her broadside and began to read.

_“There’s lots of different wizards in the world. They go about their days, running errands, going to their day jobs, raising children, and their children go to school--like we do. Some children are born into this magical world, some--”_

Lily looked around the room. A lot of students were still talking and laughing as if nothing were happening, but she saw a few attentive faces.

_“Some were thrust into a world where they know no one. Some of these kids come from families that might have trouble understanding that magic isn’t a sin, or that it can’t solve everything in the universe--"_

The door opened and Lily glanced up automatically. She was startled to see Potter’s whole face gazing up at her, his eyes focused on her. She was suddenly nervous.

_“F--for these kids to arrive at school, and hear other kids say they don’t belong, say they’re not worthy of magic, that they’re dirty, that they don’t have a right to exist-- that, I think, is the worst, most troubling betrayal of the spirit of the wizarding world--”_

A loud noise like a bang outside the pub startled everyone. Many students turned to crane their necks to look out the window. Lily realized that steadily, since she’d begun talking, the noise in the street had grown in volume. She’d have to work harder to keep their attention. She cleared her throat again.

_“Because, as long as we act as if muggleborns, or anyone who stands out, have to work extra hard for the right to use magic, then we have made a mockery of the wizarding concept of Mutual Respect and Kinship. We have denied someone their right to exist as a full magical being in this world. Well, I exist. My friends exist and they can try and convince other wizards we’re unworthy, and they can try and hurt us, and they can try and scare us, but we’re not going away. More and more muggleborn children are born every day. We are witnessing the last gasp of a pureblood supremacy that is dying. Muggleborn witches and wizards are the fu--”_

Lily stopped abruptly because students were now running to the windows to see what was going on in the street. Lily could hear chanting now, very clearly.

“Mudbloods, get out! Mudbloods go home!”

Lily jumped down from the dais, and joined the other students and teachers pressed against the windows.

Outside, many people were gathering, moving about in slow circles, their faces set in expressions of hard glee. They were holding signs, shouting, chanting. Some of them handed out copies of the _Blood Dispatch._ Some signs said, “Not in our fireplace!” and “Preserve Blood Purity.” These were not students. In fact, Lily could not see students anywhere in the high street.

"The _Blood Dispatch_ only tells the truth!” cried a bearded wizard in the brown robes. “Not like that muggle-loving rag that is the Daily Prophet!”

A cheer went up from the crowd in street. Lily looked around her, her stomach churning. Everyone in the tavern was watching, rapt, looking disgusted, amazed, and curious in turn. In the periphery of her vision, Lily could sense that a few stray students were running through the high street, trying to get away from the crowd.

Someone grabbed Lily by the arm. Looking up, she saw Potter’s face, brown, gleaming, and worried.

The crowd chanted the phrase, “Pure is Priority!”

Potter bent forward to speak into Lily’s ear. “ _Follow me. Now.”_

“Pure is Priority!”

Lily looked for her friends in the pub, but couldn’t spot them. There wasn’t much time. People were backing away from the window as it sounded like the rally-goers were rapping hard on the glass with a mind to break it.

Down a hallway, around a corner, and out a backdoor into the bright October daylight. She found Mary, Alfred, Dorcas, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. Potter addressed them

“Right. We’re getting the muggleborns out of here. Dorcas, Sirius, Remus, find as many as you can, and bring them to Doc’s up the street. Lily, stay with Peter. He’ll take you where you need to go.”

 

* * *

 

Lily followed Peter through the alley behind the shops. They climbed over ivy-covered garden walls, ducked through holes in fences, and scrambled over patches of high-growing nettle and clover. She took note of his small frame, his surprising ease of movement. It seemed as though he did this often. She watched the sun move over the fabric of his striped t-shirt as he led her through the niches and hidey holes of Hogsmeade’s back gardens. They emerged in the back garden of an innocuous brick building. Peter whispered a password and the door swung in.

Lily found herself in a low-ceilinged room with Mary, Alfred, and Dorcas, but also the boys, as well as several students she hadn’t realized were muggleborn as well. Benjy Fenwick, a fourth year called Dirk Cresswell, the Ravenclaw prefect Wilfred Chang, and a third year Hufflepuff called Hannigan.

A broad-shouldered man with a thick black beard and long black dreadlocks emerged from the front room where Lily glimpsed a barbershop. She could see people in chairs, their hair tended to by utensils working on their own: razors, scissors, combs and blowdryers were busily tending to various customers.

“Everyone,” said Potter. “This is Doc Johnson. He’s kindly letting us use the passageway in the back of his shop. Doc?”

Doc looked around at everyone, smiled a quick "Hello," and made toward the picture of the lion painted on black velvet that hung on the back wall. He reached up and whispered into the lion’s ear. The lion gave a small growl and swung open to reveal a dark hole. Potter lit his wand and stepped forward, clambered up into the hole, looked back at the group of witches and wizards and beckoned to them. They began to follow him one by one, climbing into the hole and disappearing into the blackness.

 

* * *

 

They walked for what seemed like an hour, but it could not have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes. By the light of their wands, Lily could see that they were walking along a low-ceilinged dirt tunnel, with Potter in the lead and Black bringing up the rear.

The youngest student, Hannigan, was crying softly.

“We’re almost there,” said Lupin soothingly.

“What’s your name,” said Lily, who was walking behind her.

“Bridey,” sniffed the third year.

“Well, Bridey, what are you looking forward to eating at dinner?”

“Ch- chicken with oranges,” Bridey stuttered through tears. Lily smiled.

“Oh I love chicken with oranges,” said Lily. “And I hope there’s liver.”

“Oh I could go for some pickled pig’s eyes,” said Black, to the vocal disgust and amused laughter of his companions. Even Bridey couldn’t help smiling through her tears.

“We can make a special request to the elves in the kitchens when we’re out of here, okay, Bridey?” called Potter from the front. Bridey received an encouraging pat on the shoulders from her fellow fugitives and her sniffling subsided.

Soon the tunnel steepened and the climb became somewhat arduous. Finally the group had to stop as Potter fumbled with something at the front. “All clear,” he said, and he shifted something heavy, shedding bright light down the passage.

The group began to climb out one by one into a passage lit by the failing light of the afternoon.

Lily could see now that they’d emerged from behind a mirror on the fourth floor of the west wing. The atmosphere of the castle was hushed after the noise and mild terror of the high street.

The last student climbed out and Black pushed the mirror back in place and turned to the group. Potter was regarding a piece of parchment as he spoke to the group.

“Filch is in his office, and many of the faculty and students are still down in the village. Peeves is bouncing around in the music room and Dumbledore is away from the castle.”

“We suggest you get back to your common rooms. Go in groups if possible,” said Lupin.

The four boys started back to Gryffindor tower, followed by their fellow Gryffindors.

“I’m going to go back to Hufflepuff Basement, are you coming, Dorcas?” said Alfred. Dorcas nodded, and looked at Lily.

Mary put her arm around Lily and squeezed gently. “Are you going to be alright,” she asked. Lily nodded and smiled, but she felt far away.

“Don’t stay alone, okay,” said Dorcas, grasping Lily’s hand. Lily looked down at their hands clasped together and felt something that had begun to be commonplace in the last year: something like the way a storm turns black over the old abandoned factory smokestacks in Cokeworth, as if pressed down under glass, and silenced, but still roiling, still dangerous.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Dorcas smiled, letting go of Lily's hand, and turning to walk down the corridor with Alfred. Lily turned and followed Potter and her fellow Gryffindors.


	11. Chapter 11

 

Lily had just come through the Great Hall doors and into the Entrance Hall when she saw a tall, fiery red-haired figure approach from the west corridor.

“Lily!” Gideon jogged to catch up with Lily. She paused to meet him.

“Are you okay? Heard you were in the thick of it,” he asked, gazing beseechingly into her face. Lily shrugged to cover the emotions that welled up at his concern.

“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her long hair out of her face. “Potter and his friends got us out.”

“P--Potter and his friends--?” Gideon looked doubtful, then he brushed it off, scoffing. “I’d have thought he would have started the whole thing, for a lark.”

“No,” said Lily firmly, surprising herself. “Potter may be a lot of things, like a bullying toerag, but he’d never pull a stunt like that. Say those things.”

Lily had no proof what she was saying was true, except that she was sure of it in the same way she was sure that the sky was blue, or that she could do magic.

Looking frustrated, Gideon folded his arms and muttered, “yeah, well…” 

He looked at her again, and softened. He reached out and touched Lily’s arm.

“I was worried when I heard…”

Lily drifted towards him, as he moved closer to her. He bent his broad shoulders toward her, put his arms around her, leaned his mouth close to hers, and closed his eyes. Lily felt a frisson pass through her as she tilted her face towards his.

“We gingers have to stick together,” mumbled Gideon as he kissed her softly.

 

 

An hour later, Lily was bent over Gideon, moving her mouth ceaselessly against his, as he squeezed her denim-covered thighs. His dormitory bed squeaked beneath them.

Lily knew she was making out with Gideon, knew he was touching her body in sweet, inoffensive ways, respectfully, but still with passion and desire appropriate to their ages, sixteen going on seventeen, and seventeen going on eighteen, and maybe that’s why it felt as if she were really somewhere  _ above _ herself, looking down at a girl who looked just like her, making out with Gideon Prewett of the fiery red hair and broad shoulders. As long as she could put off thinking about Hogsmeade, the broadside, the blood supremacists and the things they said this afternoon, as long as she could hold off the feelings of hurt, confusion, and rage, she thought, she might just be okay.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Lily sat squeezed between Alfred and Mary, and across from Dorcas at Gryffindor table, feeling glum.

“Printing it was a mistake,” Lily said darkly. Dorcas reached across the table to touch Lily’s folded arms.

“Don’t say that,” said Dorcas, though she didn’t look convinced. “It really was very good.”

Lily scoffed bitterly. 

Mary crossed her arms, too.

“That rally really ruined everything,” she said. “Doubt they’ll let us go into the village again with that lot running about.”

Lily lowered her head onto her forearms. She liked the soft warmth of her school sweater against her forehead. She took a deep breath. So she wasn’t going to be a writer. She wondered if there was still time to apply to the St. Mungo’s summer internship program. Professor Slughorn would probably give her a glowing recommendation…

“Lily, look!”

Alfred was shaking Lily’s shoulder urgently, and looking in the same direction as Mary and Dorcas.

Sticking out of a Ravenclaw student’s book bag was an unmistakable copy of the broadside. Dorcas glanced up at the high table, and squinted disbelievingly.

“Is that McGonagall, reading it?” she said in a hushed voice. Indeed, McGonagall had a copy propped up against a pitcher of pumpkin juice, and was reading as she took bites of ravioli.

Dorcas turned back to Lily, beaming.

“Told you,” she said. “It wasn’t a mistake, after all.”

Over the next few weeks, Lily felt additionally buoyed as she spotted the broadside printed with her words all over the castle: on the wall alongside Asante’s educational posters in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; on the notice board in the Gryffindor common room; passed between bored students in History of Magic.

Lily felt encouraged by the idea that people wanted to hear what she and her friends had to say. Her mind buzzed with ideas: Alfred wanted to write about growing up a muggleborn on a council estate in London, Mary wanted to write about what wizards could learn from muggle music. 

Lily found herself standing on the green grounds, breathing deeply in the chilly autumn air. She had something to do in the world after all, something that would make a difference.

* * *

The steam from the red engine rose into the air among the students disembarking on platform nine and three-quarters. The air was buzzing with the rowdy relief of teenagers finally on winter break.

In the chaos of the platform, Lily shouldered her knapsack and turned to say goodbye to her friends.

Mary threw her arms around Lily and squeezed tight.

“Glasgow with your mum, is that right, Mary,” said Lily.

“That’s right,” said Mary, drawing back, and hitching up her own bag on her arm. 

“And will you get a chance to see Alfred when you’re in London, Dorcas?” Lily asked.

“Maybe,” sighed Dorcas. “Christmas in Devonshire first, then it’s off to see the Sharifs in Belvedere Square. My grandmère is pretty demanding.”

Alfred shrugged. “My Christmas will be pretty crowded too. But if you can get away, Dorcas, there’s always a ton of my aunt’s fried flying fish and cou-cou.” Alfred threw a brotherly arm around Dorcas, who grinned.

Lily felt a strong, heavy arm curl around her shoulder before she saw him. She looked up to find Gideon smiling down at her.

“And you, Gideon?” she asked.

“My sister and her husband and my nephews are coming for Christmas.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Lily. “Better than mine will be. My sister is coming home.”

Gideon gave an almost imperceptible squeeze.

Lily smiled at all her friends. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

  
  
  


 


	13. Chapter 13

Lily sighed with frustration. Just one more month. Just thirty-five days and she would be seventeen and the trace would be gone. She’d be taking the apparition test in a few weeks. She’ll be able to go anywhere, do anything.

Right now, though…

She was struggling to wrap her father’s present. A book of Shakespeare’s sonnets that she’d spent every spare minute of finals week working on complicated charms and transfiguration spells that would produce blooms of peonies and hawthorn blossoms, zinnias and roses, like a botanical pop-up book.

She’d worked all summer to collect the flowers, and dried them in preparation for the reinvigorating charms. It was sort of her speciality. She was extremely proud of it.

Finally, she got the wrapping paper to do what she wanted. Closed, the book seemed perfectly ordinary. Without magic, wrapping Christmas gifts in holiday paper was regular-old muggle-style tedium. She looked forward to the day she could use magic however she wanted, whenever it pleased her.

She carried the wrapped presents into the front room, where the only light came from the tree that twinkled with multi-colored electric lights. It glowed in a hushed, nostalgic way. Lily suddenly felt she ought to be quiet.

Tiptoeing over to the tree, she laid her presents down. One for Petunia, one for her dad, and a symbolic one for her mum. Breathing in the evergreen scent, the light in the room just so, Lily was hit with a memory, like an ocean wave knocking the breath out of her:

 

_That Etta James song was playing softly from the front room as Lily descended the stairs, stepping softly. That song that older folks love. That song that was popular the year Lily was born. It is a reassuring and all-encompassing melody, encouraging the listener to forget the bad things in the world for a moment and focus on whatever, or whoever, was right in front of you. Lily sat down on the fifth step and watched her parents hold each other, swaying to and fro, silhouetted by the light coming off the Christmas tree. Lily smiled. Her mother was often grumbly, or cheeky, or laughing, and her father was often tired, or deadpan, or nodding off in the armchair in front of the television set. Lily thought back to the times this song had played in this front room. Probably while her bouffanted mother in a shift dress held up a plump, stunned baby Lily. Probably while Aunt Jan had a reluctant waltz of her own with a petulant Petunia. Although, probably, these were all moments that Lily had imagined, that had likely not occurred in this front room at all, but which had come together in a composite of images her brain put together from disparate photographs in a forgotten photo album. At any rate, it felt to Lily as though it had been a long time since she’d seen them together this way, the way they were when no one was watching. Lily blushed then, and felt suddenly that she ought to not be there. Smiling, simultaneously embarrassed and happy for her parents’ rare and momentary happinesses, she stood slowly and crept back up the stairs. The next morning she would descend the stairs noisily and start breakfast, noisily, so that her parents and Petunia could come down and they could all have a chance at a new Christmas day._

 

Lily opened her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them. She felt a hot tear run down her cheek; she reached up to wipe it away.

* * *

 

On Christmas morning, Lily was wearing a holiday-appropriate tartan pinafore, and was sitting in the front room with her father, who sported a festive green and red vest, and Petunia, who wore a very somber, grown-up outfit of green wool. They had just finished breakfast--full, with blood sausage and eggs, tomatoes, and her father’s specialty, laverbread. They’d moved to sit beside the tree in anticipation of opening presents, accompanied by Petunia’s Madeira cake.

Lily settled down with a slice of cake on a plate and started to carve off a big piece with her fork, when out of the corner of her eye she saw her father reach under the tree for the biggest present-- hers.

Lily suddenly felt a feeling of foreboding. She sucked in her breath--then watched the whole disaster unfold as if in slow motion.

First, they were interrupted by an owl flying up to the window and tapping on the glass. Petunia made a disgusted sound with the back of her throat just as Mr. Evans stood to open the window. Petunia screeched as the owl--huge, much larger than usual--flapped its wings and landed on the coffee table. Petunia snatched her Madeira cake away, but not before a few feathers managed to get stuck in the sticky syrup topping. Lily fought to keep from laughing. Something about the situation was so laughably Petunia.

Mr. Evans cleared his throat.

“Erm, Lily?”

Lily realized the owl was holding out its leg, and the letter tied to it was addressed to Lily. She hurriedly untied it, and shooed it back out the window. The incoming breeze was crisp and she shut the sash against it. Lily looked back at poor Petunia and her Madeira cake-- Petunia was flushed, livid, with feathers in her hair.

Lily pressed her lips together in apology, and sat down again, tucking her letter in her pocket.

Lily watched Mr. Evans pick up Lily’s present again. Lily thought perhaps it would better if her dad opened it in private in fact, just the two of them, and she began to reach toward him, to offer up Petunia’s present instead, but--

"Oh Lily, Shakespeare, how love--OH!”

Mr. Evans gasped with awe and laughed with delight as the pages bloomed with azaleas, fragrant hyacinths, and of course, lilies and petunias.

Mr. Evans wiped a tear from his eye, and, smiling widely, reached for his daughter and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you, love, it’s--it’s _magical._ ”

Mr. Evans pulled away and Lily saw Petunia’s face. It had turned scarlet. She was grinding her teeth.

 “Why don’t you open yours,” Lily offered, picking up Petunia’s gift and holding it out to her. Petunia didn’t budge. Instead, she narrowed her eyes.

“I won’t. It might explode,” she hissed.

 Lily shrank back. Mr. Evans closed his book, making the flowers disappear.

“Petunia,” he chastened softly.

“You always do this,” she choked, her voice thick with emotion. “You show me up! Why?”

Lily shook her head in confusion. “I’m not doing it on purp--”

Petunia scoffed. “You think you’re so wonderful! Magical Lily! Apple of our parents’ eyes!”

Mr. Evans put out a hand to calm Petunia. “It’s not like th--” he began. Petunia stood up, flushed.

“Where was your magic-- _when she died_?”

There was silence, but for Petunia huffing. Lily felt a sharp pain in her chest. Hot tears sprang to her eyes unbidden.

“ _Where was it?_ You can make flowers bloom in the dead of winter, make teapots turn into rats, but you can’t save the one thing that really matters?”

Lily couldn’t breathe. She stood up and walked out of the room.

In the kitchen, Lily collapsed against the closed door. In her hand was the crumpled letter. She opened the envelope and took out the note:

_Merry Christmas Lily! The fam’s away until after New Year’s! Having a shindig, swing by if you can!_

_-Marlene_

Lily crushed the letter in her hand. She slipped it back into the pocket of her dress and went up the backstairs.

 

In her room, Lily traded her tartan pinafore for a t-shirt, a thick fair isle, and a pair of high waisted, wide legged jeans. She snuffled as she tied her trainer laces. Wiping the tears from her face, she drew on some red lipstick and some kohl around her eyes and tied up her hair in careless fashion.

She’d put on her peacoat and had just thrown wide the sash of her window when she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Lily, love,” said Mr. Evans cautiously. But lily was feeling reckless. Her heart hurt. She wanted to be rid of this feeling. Of living in a world where she no longer belonged. So she threw one leg over the sill.

* * *

 

“LILY!”

Someone shouted her name as she entered the Victorian mansion on a posh road just outside Edinburgh. She’d just stepped off the Knight Bus, and was not a little disoriented.

It was crowded. Full of teenagers, half of Hogwarts was present. There was a weird, smelly blue haze in the air, and the scent of firewhisky and other alcoholic beverages was strong. Loud music played from somewhere in the house. Streamers, balloons, holly, tinsel, and sparkling lights that looked suspiciously like fairies floated through the air.

“LILY,” came the shout from the stairs. Lily looked up and saw Marlene coming down, elbowing teenagers as she went.

Marlene ran forward, and grabbed Lily’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen.

“Didnae expect you to come, honestly,” said Marlene, as she took a swig from the bottle in her hand. Whether it was beer or wine or firewhisky, Lily had no idea. Marlene turned around and she had a second one in her hand. Where had it come from? Before Lily could ask, Marlene had shoved it into her hand. The top popped off of its own accord, and wisps of carbonated air escaped.

Sirius entered the room, his chest bare but for a tuxedo vest. He clutched in his hand a bottle of very fine champagne. He spotted Lily and sauntered over, throwing an arm over her shoulder. Lily took out a cigarette and handed it to him. She took out another and put it in her mouth. She lit it with a muggle lighter and placed the tip of her cigarette against the tip of Sirius’s. But he was much more interested in the lighter.

“Can I borrow this for a moment, Red?” Lily nodded. Sirius picked it up and flicked it on and off, laughing with delight each time. He ran out of the room.

Lily saw Mary come in as Sirius left, and she threw arms around Lily.

“Now that you’ve indulged your vices,” she said, pointing to Lily’s beer and cigarette. “Let’s have a dance, shall we?” Mary grabbed Lily’s hand and dragged her into the next room, where a crowd of students surrounded Gideon and Fabian Prewett as they had a dance-off. Lily took drags on her cigarette and drank her muggle beer when she saw him. On the other side of the room, taking off his sweater, handing it to Pettigrew. His white shirt shone against his light brown arms.

“Ye’re okay?” asked Mary, who was bent close to Lily. Lily shrugged, ashing her cigarette, focusing her eyes on the floor in front of her.

“My sister thinks I killed our mother,” she said flatly.

Mary pursed her lips and folded her arms.

“Lily, your whole family is in this room,” she said matter-of-factly. She threw one arm over Lily’s shoulder and kissed her sloppily on the cheek.

“Do ye want to talk about it, _mo gradh_?” She brushed Lily’s hair out of her eyes, and set her drink down on a side table. Lily looked out at the crowd. Now, a group of quidditch players had lifted up the Prewett brothers on their shoulders. It didn’t feel like the place to go into detail about the owl, the cake, the book, or Petunia’s accusation.

“I think I just want to dance,” she said. Mary took Lily’s beer and cigarette, which by now was just a butt, and set them down too. She spun Lily around and foxtrotted her out into the middle of the room, dodging rowdy boys and hair-flipping girls, to the sound of Fleetwood Mac.

 

* * *

 

Lily stumbled onto the back porch by herself to breathe in the cold clean air. The bass of the music continued to thump in her ear, and the smoke clung to her sweaty skin. She’d removed her sweater a long time ago, and did not know where it was.

Beside her, couples clung to each other. On one side, wreathed in shadow, Marlene was making out with Dorcas Shacklebolt. Lily briefly wished she had someone to make out with, too.

Behind her, the door swung open, and out stepped Sirius Black. Lily smiled at him, and he came to stand beside her.

“Marlene’s thrown a good do, hasn’t she,” said Sirius. Lily nodded.

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

Lily laughed bitterly. “Family’s a joke,” she said. Sirius chuckled.

“Innit, though,” he agreed.

“How’s your holiday, Sirius?” Lily asked. Sirius shrugged. “Not bad,” he said. “Helped Mrs. Potter make Christmas dinner for the elves.”

Lily laughed. “What, do you live at the Potters’ now?”

Sirius said nothing. And in the silence, Lily realized she’d stumbled on something true.

“Sorry, she said. “I’m being stupid.”

“It’s alright,” said Sirius. He took a deep breath. “Since the summer, if you’re wondering.”

Lily nodded. She _was_ wondering. She had a million questions, but she wouldn’t ask them. Instead, she smiled.

“Your whole family’s in this house right now,” she said, half-jokingly echoing Mary’s earlier words. She watched Sirius’s face change into something resembling a young boy who’s just fallen down and scraped his knee. She looked away, and when she looked back at him, his face was once again neutral.

Behind them, the door swung open once more.

“Padfoot, what are you doing out here, aren’t you cold, I thought-- oh. Hi, Evans.”

Lily looked up to see James towering over her, looking pleasantly sweaty, his face ruddy with activity. He looked from Lily to Sirius. Sirius suddenly snapped to attention.

“I’ve forgotten something upstairs,” he said, bounding over the threshold.

“What,” asked James.

“My clothing,” shouted Sirius as he slammed the door behind him. James and Lily were now alone on the porch, surrounded by kissing couples shrouded in darkness. Lily nervously tugged on her shirt, then rubbed her arms. She was starting to feel cold.

James had never stood so close to her before. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating. James cleared his throat.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said quietly.

“Needed to get away,” said Lily shortly, by way of explanation.

“That bad, huh,” said James.

Lily let it spill out. The book, Petunia, her dad, her mum. Finally, she looked over at James. Mostly he was there in the dark, still as stone. But a sliver of light from the kitchen shown through, illuminating the curve of his face. She looked into it fully, now that he knew what had broken her heart. What cruelty would he hurl at her, now that he knew where she was softest?

James turned in her direction, causing her to shrink back. He grabbed her arm and pulled into a hug. She was pressed against his sweaty shirt, which was now cold and damp against his warm chest. At first, Lily was frozen still. But after a moment of James holding onto her, she relaxed in his arms. She even dared to lift her own, and place them over his ribs, her palms over his spine. His arms gathered over her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing her upper arms. She felt his chin come to rest on the top of her head. She took note of her own heartbeat against her skin, and her breath as it filled her lungs, as she released slowly, steadily. She felt as if she were breathing for the first time in a year. She leaned into it.


	14. Chapter 14

_Pub Explodes on New Year’s Eve_

_An explosion in Ottery St. Catchpole on New Year’s Eve, which killed one wizard and injured seven, is believed to have been carried out by the Blood Supremacists who call themselves “Death Eaters,” on behalf of the wizard terrorist You-Know-Who._

_Amid the confusion, two wizards were witnessed in mid-disapparition from the scene. Aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s Investigation Division are making inquiries into the explosion’s connection to recent terrorist acts in Bristol, Kent, and Anglesey._

_A muggle-repelling charm cast on the night of the New Year’s do at Swann’s Wand Pub prevented muggle casualties. The entirety of the crowd at the pub was comprised of local witches and wizards._

_Sylvester Fawcett, who was not injured in the blast, was shaken as he described the scene to our reporter: “Came down the pub like, to have a dram with a mate and sing a verse of Auld Lang Syne, and so I came down and was enjoying me’self when them there blokes in black cloaks and masks appeared looking tall and bad and I looked away and when I looked back I was tossed back by the force of the blast and my friend, poor Teddy Oppenheim, was thrown back by the blast too, and perhaps we were saved by the position of our bodies to the bar, for we didn’t get hit by no debris. When we got up, all was broken and in pieces and folks lyin’ everywhere moanin’ like, and I stepped over a young witch who had hit her head, so’s I could get in the floo and call St. Mungo’s. Never seen anything like it in my life, really.”_

_“It’s right cowardly and selfish,” said Mrs. Gertrude “Gerty” Emmets who lives up the street from the pub. “To make such a fuss, and for what, to hurt some wizards who don’t agree with ye, rendering the entirety of the neighborhood joppety. If them there cloaked wizards was my kiddies, well, let’s just say I’in havin’ that, mind?”_

_Aurors confirmed no arrests have yet been made._


	15. Chapter 15

1977

Winter

Lily came back from holiday break determined to get her studies back on track. No more submitting passionate rants on the rights of muggleborns in the place of Defense Against The Dark Arts essays.

She struggled to keep her eyes open late at night, after hours of reading, with only Remus on the same plushy red couch for company. After Gideon left to go to bed, after midnight, her eyes idly followed Potter as he said good night and traipsed up the boys’ dormitory stairs.

Many a night were spent on the couch with Remus, stretched out end to end, an arm thrown carelessly over his knees, her feet tucked under his ribcage.

Her eyes opened for just a moment in the gray dawn light as Potter crept down from the dormitories and out the portrait hole before she closed her eyes again.

* * *

Lily scribbled down a sentence on her parchment, then scratched it out. She ran her hands through her hair. Spread before her were several open books with old, spotted pages and tiny hand-lettered text.

The library was quiet at the beginning of term. Lily was one of only a handful of students at the large tables in the middle of the cavernous room, surrounded by stacks that rose up into the darkness above the lamps. Diffuse warm light from the chandeliers overhead was a comfort on the January night. The books seemed to cushion any errant sound: a sniffle, a page turning, parchment crumpling. It was a place Lily could forget about certain things that happen in late January.

A clatter of human boy legs and arms, a bookbag, and school robes on the other side of the table pulled Lily out of her focus on the tiny letters on the page. She looked up to see that Potter had plopped himself down in a chair across from her. He looked a bit flushed, as if he’d just run a mile. His hair laid about calmly on top of his head as if he hadn’t upset it with his hand in a few hours. Lily’s insides contracted. She sighed and looked back down at her books. She heard Potter settle down his things, then there was quiet. She looked up to see him looking at her from under his eyelashes, over an open book and a blank sheet of parchment.

“Alright, Evans,” he whispered.

Lily shrugged and looked back down at her books, before looking back up at him. He sighed.

“I just finished my hundredth detention,” he said mildly. He flashed a close-mouthed smile and Lily cocked her head. He shrugged. Curious, Lily leaned forward, ready to ask him what he had done to deserve a hundred detentions. But he leaned back, picked up his book and began paging through it absent-mindedly. Lily considered him for a moment, this tall, brown boy, nearly a man, his golden brown eyes twinkling behind his glasses, his ankles poking out from his trousers. His brown hands all over this little book. He looked up at her and she felt her eyebrow crook against her will. She looked away, lest she give something away.

He sucked in his breath before saying, very fast, “What are you doing here?”

Lily gestured to the books in front of her, feeling slightly exasperated. Potter frowned.

“But,” he said. “I just mean, isn't today—”

“I know what day it is, thank you,” snapped Lily, before she softened a little at Potter’s expression. He looked genuinely concerned. She didn’t realize he knew. He snapped his book shut.

“Come on,” he said, throwing his book on the table with a smack. Lily automatically looked around for Madam Pince before looking back at Potter. He was standing up and gathering his things. Lily watched him for a moment; he paused and looked at her as if he were daring her to stay. But Lily was too curious. She shut her books and stacked them on the table, put her quill and parchment in her bag and followed him out of the library.

He lead her along the library corridor, down the stairs, through another corridor. Lily grew nervous as they approached the Entrance Hall, but instead of leaving the school on this freezing cold night, one of the last nights in January, Potter made a swerve to the right. They were headed to the basements. Down a set of stairs they walked along a warm, brightly lit corridor lined with paintings of food, gorgeous, realistic looking still-lifes, and she began to relax as she realized they were going to the kitchens. Potter reached the painting of the pear, tickled it, and pulled on the green handle.

Once in the cavernous kitchens, they were met with a dozen elves gathering about their knees.

“Hi!” said Potter, looking down at them all clamoring. “Do you mind, would one of you be able to make a cake? A birthday cake?”

The elves excitedly nodded, some of them rushed to gather the ingredients. Lily touched Potter’s arm, and he looked down at her. His face was so full of light she almost felt bad. Almost.

“Don’t have them bake a cake, you’re giving them more work on top of the work they already have to do. It’s rude.”

“But Lily, they want to,” he said in a hushed voice.

Lily shook her head. “It’s not right.”

Potter looked into her face. She could feel her jaw set in an unpleasant way. She thought she might leave the room if he argued with her about this. It just wasn’t how she wanted to spend this evening. She didn’t want to argue, or to even really be aware that it was her birthday. She didn’t want surprises, she didn’t even want to be one year older but for the lifting of the trace. She didn’t want to celebrate her birthday without— Unexpectedly, Potter nodded.

“Okay,” he said. 

He turned to the elves and clapped his hands. “Alright,” he said. “Change of plans. Can I— please— have an apron? And a mixing bowl? Also, I'm gonna need three eggs, some milk, flour, of course, oh— and the use of one of your ovens, if you don’t mind.”

Lily sat on top of one of the tables and picked from a plate of cured sausage, country-style bread and cheese, and apple slices that one elf set down. Another one of the elves brought her a pint of pumpkin juice, which she obligingly took and sipped.

Lily laughed as Potter tied a very tiny, very useless apron over his waist. She laughed and swung her legs and watched with surprised delight as Potter set about whisking eggs, measuring out sugar, and turning around to wiggle his eyebrows cheekily at her, a swipe of white flour across his cheek.

After Potter put the cakepan in the oven, he turned to Lily, who was smiling and sipping her pumpkin juice. He leaned against the edge of the table on which she perched.

“How do you feel now?” he asked, biting his lip. Lily laughed and grinned.

“I feel quite good,” she said. “Do you bake often?”

Potter shrugged, smiling. “I dabble,” he said. “We have elves at home too but baking is something i always do with my mum.” 

“My mum too,” said Lily quietly. Potter nodded solemnly.

“When did it happen?” he asked.

“Right around this time last year,” said Lily, focussing hard on her pumpkin juice. She suddenly wished that the cake would be done already. Or, that there hadn’t been a cake in the first place. But Potter nodded as if he understood everything very well. She felt comforted by this; his presence, his patient, listening silence. No “it’ll be alright” or “I’m sure she’s looking down at you right now” which was just plain creepy and liable to make her bawl.

She looked around them. Elves bustled around, cleaning surfaces, preparing things, and turning off ovens.

“Thank you, Potter,” she said. He looked over at her, and something in his eyes made her breath catch. She cleared her throat and made a snap decision.

“James,” she said. “Thank you.”

Potter— James— smiled, his cheeks dimpling, and looked away.

After Lily shared slices of the iced cake with some of the elves, she and James took a few delicious, sweet bites along with cups of tea before bringing the rest to the common room.

Lily and James ducked through the portrait hole and, beaming, approached Mary, Dorcas, and Marlene who were sitting on the couch. Lily abruptly stopped smiling when she saw that Marlene was comforting a nervous, crying Dorcas, who was loosening her green and silver tie. Mary quickly looked from Lily, to the cake, and to James before getting up and going to them.

Quietly, Mary said, “Alfred’s in the infirmary.”

“What happened?” asked Lily. All thought of birthdays and cake left her. She vaguely noted that James had taken the cake out of her hands and walked to the other side of the room, allowing Mary the space to reach over and embrace Lily, who struggled to understand.

“I dinnae know” said Mary thickly. “He was in the Great Hall, and then he was suddenly very sick, vomiting, said his stomach hurt, and his heart…”

Lily looked over at Dorcas, and Marlene who was rubbing Dorcas’s back in big slow circles, holding tight to her arm with her other hand and pressing her forehead against Dorcas’s.

* * *

The infirmary was hushed as Lily walked over to join Dorcas and Mary who were sitting by Alfred’s bedside. He lay, eyes closed, his breath ragged. His skin was damp, and he looked very ill. Lily sat down and Dorcas leaned over Alfred’s bed, to speak in hushed tones to Lily.

“He’s been unconscious since he arrived. This isn’t a stomach flu,” she whispered.

“What is it then?” said Lily quietly, putting her bookbag on the floor.

“He ate the same thing we did,” said Dorcas. “And he’d just got done interviewing someone for the front page article in our newsletter.”

“That’s odd,” said Lily immediately. “Who was he talking to?”

“I don’t know,” said Dorcas. “Said his source was anonymous. Proud he was. I suppose he felt like a real reporter.”

“Should we cancel the issue?” whispered Mary.

“You mean the very first and only issue?” said Lily. She felt a little disappointed, though she could see why such a suggestion would be proposed.

“Aye, should we? Alfred’s article about the _Blood Dispatch_ was going to be on the front page. He’s not conscious, he can’t finish it.” Mary looked troubled.

Dorcas shook her head.

“We have his notes. We can still go to print.” Dorcas looked determined, which reassured Lily.

“You dunnae think— someone poisoned him?” said Mary slowly. “That his source said something that wasnae supposed to get out?”

Lily exchanged a worried look with Dorcas, whose brow was furrowed.

“We don’t yet know if it was poison.” said Dorcas carefully, but it was clear she didn’t believe what she said.

 


	16. Chapter 16

It was strange to continue going to class with her friend in the infirmary, her newsletter not even published and already threatened. It was surreal to sit and read from textbooks, answer questions and wave her wand as if everything was normal.

Crossing the upper level arcade above the entrance hall, which joined the east wing to the west, Lily navigated the crowds of students that were travelling to classes, or milling during their free period. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Gideon catching up to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday last week,” he huffed as he stopped her in the middle of the arcade where they made an island in the river of students.

“I had to find out from Black, who heard it from Potter-- who _baked_ you a _cake_?”

“It was no big deal,” said Lily, shrugging.

“Why are you being weird about this,” he said, looking frustrated. Lily felt a tinge of annoyance.

“I’m not being weird I just— didn’t want to celebrate my birthday, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m of age, it’s all I care about.”

Gideon scoffed and walked away into the crowd. Lily could see his fiery red hair bobbing for a moment before she lost sight of him. She wondered if he knew that Alfred was in hospital.

* * *

 

"What are these," said James, turning page after page of her notebook: each contained dried, pressed plants— weeds, wildflowers, thistles, blossoms, ferns. They were standing among the stacks while Lily searched the shelves for a book on advanced potion-making. Winter sun glittered on the snow that had gathered on the window sill.

Lily gently took the book from him. Opening to the first page, to one of the oldest flowers, dead and gray from its time pressed against paper, she took out her wand and, with serene focus, she carefully moved her wand over the page: up and down, and in an outward motion, as if coaxing the leaves and petals back to life.

Green had started to color the tips of the curled leaves, which had begun to rise with plumpness, like dough rising. The stem turned green, filled out, and the petals began to unfurl and turned from gray to yellow. Finally the center took on a rich umber and the seeds grew full. Lily looked up at James, who looked at her with his mouth slightly open. She picked up the fresh flower and handed it to him. He took it carefully, as if he could not believe his own eyes.

“I started a year ago,” she said softly. “With the flowers in the baskets. The bouquets that people sent. After…”

James nodded mutely. He handed her the flower back. But Lily shook her head.

“You should keep these,” he said. “They’re important to you.”

“They’re just flowers,” she said. “I can bring them back to life. I can kill them. They’re easy. People are much more difficult.”

James dropped his arm, and tucked the flower surreptitiously in his pocket.

Lily chuckled darkly. “I used to go with Sev, you know, exploring the grounds, into the forest, and we’d look at the plants, identify them, study them, collect them. Some of my favorites were wood sorrel and heather and his… his were...” Lily’s eyes became unfocused. She gasped softly.

James looked at her, puzzled as Lily’s mind flashed to a lesson in Slughorn’s classroom at the start of fall term. His voice floating above the scene, a classroom full of teenagers, the words taking shape like the steam floating up from a dozen cauldrons.

“... _toxins such as lily-of-the-valley, which produces abdominal pain, vomiting, and reduced heart rate_ …”

“ Alfred,” said Lily. “I think I know.”

James straightened up. “What is it, what's wrong with him?”

“Not a what,” she said. “A who. I’ve got to go.”

“Want me to come with you?” said James. Lily looked at him, standing tall and straight, his hand resting on the wand in his pocket, and she considered how his presence had made her feel calm and strong over the last few weeks. Lily sighed. She already knew.

“No,” said Lily. “I’ve got to do this alone.”


	17. Chapter 17

Lily rushed out of the library and, though she wasn’t thinking about where she was going, her feet carried her where she needed to go, to an old place she hadn’t thought of in a very long time.

Lily entered the old chapel where she used to spend time with Severus. The way the winter sun slanted through glassless arches and flying buttresses. The way the ivy climbed the stone pillars. The students who’d partied here left their goblets and their streamers to litter the cracked stone.

Her breath caught in her chest. A flood of memories came rushing back. Sitting with Severus on the stone steps to study, or talk about their families, or teachers, or their dreams for the future. And Severus sat in that place now, the place where the altar ought to be. He was surrounded by pamphlets and glass vials, bell jars and pots of illicit plants. _How dare he,_ she thought. How dare he muddy up their place, the place where they’d been friends, with his dark arts obsession. She felt like she would bubble over. She tried to focus that excess energy. She took a deep breath.

“It was you,” she said in a clear voice. 

Severus started and turned. He fumbled for speech as his eyes disbelievingly landed on her. “Lily, I—” 

“And with Lily-of-the-valley, what a sick— you wanted me to know— that it was you—”

Lily could barely get the words out. She found herself trembling, her breath becoming shallow. Severus scowled.

“Don’t play innocent. I’ve seen you with Potter. You know what he did to me, don’t you? He sent me down a tunnel under the Whomping Willow where his friend changed into that thing. And Potter pulled me out at the last minute like the coward he is!”

Lily faltered as Severus's voice rose in volume. It was frightening to hear him yell.

“James?" gasped Lily. What did any of this have to do with him? “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?" Severus sneered. "Go ahead, ask him. _Ask him why he had to serve a hundred detentions—_ ”

Lily took a step back. She felt confused by her own feelings, swirling around inside her— anger, hurt, and sadness. It all felt like too much. She felt too much.

“You poisoned Alfred to get back at James?” she asked, trying to piece it all together. Severus responded with disgust.

“Ugh, no,” said Severus. “I’m trying to protect you!”

Lily shook her head in confusion.

“Alfred was asking too many questions" Severus continued. "That mudblood rag you want to start will get you all worse than a little Lily-of-the-valley.”

“What are you saying?” Lily whispered.

“I’m saying,” Severus began to chuckle darkly. “That soon it won’t be about newspapers. It’ll be so much more. When he comes for you all, you won’t have anything left. He’s too strong—”

Lily stumbled as she backed away. She turned and fled. Driven by a mixture of fear, hurt and pure fury, Lily ran back through the corridors. She almost knocked James down outside the library. Face flushing, pulling hair away from her mouth, gasping for breath, she rounded on him.

“You!” She cried, her voice ringing through the high arches of the corridor. “You are not— you’re a liar, worse than a liar—”

“Lily! What are you on about?” The look on James's face was pure bewilderment. Lily fought to catch her breath and gasped.

“It was Severus! And he said you! You— you—”

“Lily—” James reached out a hand toward her, but Lily backed away. Her eyes were filled with tears, she could barely see.

“You sent him to a place under the Whomping Willow!” She cried, without really knowing what she was saying. All that she knew was that she was afraid. “Somewhere dangerous, and you could have killed him, and that’s why you have detention!”

James hung his head and Lily felt her stomach plummet. She hadn't wanted Severus to be right.

“Yes. He could have died. Or been hurt, but, Lily, you don’t know the whole story—”

“I know you,” she said, fixing him with a narrow-eyed glare through her tears. If Severus was right, then James was wrong. All wrong, wrong through and through. She knew what he was. She should never have let her guard down. “And I know that you don’t really care about me at all. You only care about yourself, you always have, and you always will.”

Lily turned on her heel and stormed away, hopefully to leave him behind her forever.

* * *

 

“What's the matter,” said Gideon, pulling Lily aside outside the Great Hall. “You look like you’ve been crying.” He gently touched her hair, smoothing it down. He touched her cheek, wiped away a tear. She pulled away and shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Just a fight with— with Potter.” She rubbed her face with her hands, wiped away stray tears. There was no way she could tell Gideon everything, no way she could involve him in all of this, all of the things she now knew. Gideon sighed, exasperated.

“Potter,” he repeated. “Potter again. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently.”

Lily looked down at the floor with purpose.

“Sometimes,” said Gideon quietly. “It's more like you're dating him.”

Lily swallowed the sob she could feel rising in her throat. It made her jaw ache. Gideon scoffed.

“It’s as if you’re the couple. Hell, maybe you are. Maybe,” said Gideon, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you’re the kind of couple that’s a couple even when you’re not.”

Lily finally let the hot tears spill down her cheeks as Gideon walked away. She did not even look up to see him go.

* * *

Lily was in the 6th year girls’ dorm all by herself in the early afternoon on a gray day.

She lay on her bed, her long pale legs propped up against the headboard, her hair hanging over the side of the bed. She held up sheets of parchment covered with writing, marking the text with red ink. Circling, scratching through, x-ing out.

Occasionally she picked up her wand and waved it at her record player, causing one 12 inch single from the X-Ray Spex to switch places with another 12 inch single from Siouxsie and the Banshees. The sounds of pissed-off girls who didn’t give a damn, smashing down on their instruments in a satisfying way. Their music helped her feel less alone.

Lily picked up her quill again and scratched out another word. Wrote in a missing letter. Circled a phrase. Her wool blankets itched, her sweater itched. The sounds of a particularly intense game of wizard’s chess drifted up from the common room below. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t focus. Finally, she swung her legs down, turned herself upright. She dressed for the cold, wet weather and began walking.

Out of Gryffindor tower, down the stairs, out the door, and down the lawn, she walked. Feeling the air swipe across her face was refreshing.

She came to rest under the bleachers on the Quidditch pitch, pulled out a cigarette and lit up. As she did, she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up to see Sirius sitting down beside her. He had an apologetic look on his face. Lily had the sense he had purposely followed her out there just to talk to her. She did not feel in the mood.

"Alright, love?" said Sirius. He seemed more subdued than usual. Lily didn’t answer. Didn’t pass him a cigarette. Just sat looking straight ahead, watching the freezing water drip from the empty seats. Trying and failing to focus on her breathing.

"I heard from Padfoot that you’d argued."

Lily said nothing. She didn’t care about Potter or Black or Severus or anything.

"He told me," said Sirius quietly. "Told me you were miffed." Lily let a light scoff escape through her nose.

"Well, more than. It’s just, I think you might want to know what happened that night." 

Lily sat stock still, listening in spite of herself. She ashed her cigarette and took a drag. Sirius drew his leather jacket closer around him, pulled his sweater sleeves over his knuckles.

"It was last June," Sirius began. "After exams. I heard Mulciber telling Snivellous what he'd done to Mary. They were having a right ol' laugh. And I couldn’t just stand by. It was a lark to them, messing with a muggleborn witch. And I wasn’t thinking. And Snivellous had always had this thing about Moony— Remus, you know—"

"I remember," said Lily, her mind briefly returning to the moments the year before, sitting with Severus, having to listen to his conspiracy theories about where Remus went every month, what he and his friends did every day. Not so much a theory anymore. Lily sighed.

"Yeah well, I told Severus he could finally see what we got up to, that night," Sirius continued. "I thought I’d, you know, get a chance to be there when he popped up, and I’d be in a position to do some damage."

Lily bent her head in a listening pose. She was curious now.

"Because— because Remus isn’t the only one who can change— but it’s a long story— anyway, I thought I’d be there, but I didn't get there in time. It was James who connected the dots first and reached him before I could— Thank Merlin he did, but not before Remus—"

"So he saw," said Lily, feeling as if a dozen little gears were clicking into place inside her head. Remus’s pale look, his absences, his mother’s illnesses, Severus's theories. The way the four boys sometimes showed up to class looking as if they’d pulled all-nighters, sporting mysterious injuries. Lily looked up at Sirius and saw that he looked as though he was afraid of what Lily would do next. Lily could see it was very important to him that she stayed calm, so she took a deep breath and looked back out at the rain. If she were honest, after the year she’d had, not even Remus and whatever the boys did in their spare time could faze her. Sirius took a deep breath.

"I didn’t think about it at the time. If anything, I thought it was funny. Potter was so angry with me after he rescued Severus. And Severus went running to Dumbledore, who had us all swear to secrecy, and he gave me and Potter a hundred detentions. But it was painless, compared to…" Sirius looked off in the distance before coming back to himself.

"He wouldn’t speak to me for weeks," said Sirius softly. "I felt like everything was going wrong. I was so angry. Added to the way things generally are at home, well, my mum threw me out. I ended up at Potter’s while Remus was visiting and well, poor Mrs. Potter, bless her, got us all talking again, but it wasn't easy at first."

Lily looked at Sirius, hadn’t thought about his inner life before. He suddenly took on a depth she hadn’t imagined. How he felt, how he loved. He suddenly seemed very fragile. There was a softness in his haughty face.

Sirius sighed and laughed sadly. He shook his head.

"We’re all so damaged, you know," he sighed. "We’re all so hurt and then we go and love people and we can’t help but hurt them because it’s all we’ve ever known. And we just love again and again and hurt again and again but— I don’t know, maybe somehow when we love we learn to you know— hurt less."

Lily thought of her mother, her sister. She thought of Severus and his bitter feelings about his father. She thought of how she’d seen Sirius be so tender with Remus that she couldn’t possibly imagine the pain, the violence of exposing Remus that way. The profound damage that must have done. And after all that, the care he took with him now. And she thought of Potter, his dimpled smile, the flour on his cheek, his arms around her in the midwinter dark, his magnificent brown face collapsing as she called him a liar. She took a deep, shuddering breath.


	18. Chapter 18

_Veritas:_ Issue 1

March 1, 1977

Here's Everything Muggleborns Need to Know About the New Blood Purist Publication The _Blood Dispatch_

by Alfred Dean and Dorcas Shacklebolt

On the morning of October 30, 1976, the muggleborn students of Hogwarts woke up excited to visit the local wizarding village Hogsmeade for a day of relaxation and socializing. They never thought they’d leave feeling terrorized and in fear for their lives.

A call to rally had circulated earlier in the year in a new publication called the _Blood Dispatch_. Its articles are bursting with blood purity propaganda and ultimately suggest the dangerous and violent idea of blood cleansing. But what is that exactly? One pureblood wizard I spoke to, who we will refer to here as “Jess,” because they requested to remain anonymous to protect their identity and physical safety at school and at home, has asserted that not only is the pamphlet a dangerous disseminator of purist ideas, it is a recruitment tool for the growing extremist group, calling themselves death eaters, who are lead by the wizard Lord Voldemort.

“The idea is definitely to grow numbers,” said Jess. “The information the paper contains is entirely untrue. But that's how their leader wants to get people on his side. He wants to not only cleanse wizarding society but to oppress muggles too.”

Thanks to the appearance of this pamphlet we can see these ideas are no longer on the fringe of society. Jess, our pureblood source, even suggested that some of the most powerful wizarding families are funding its printing.

“The big pureblood families, if you can name them, they’re funding it. I’m talking the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Selwyns, the Parkinsons. The list goes on. People with power in the government, on the board of governors at Hogwarts. They’re our bosses and our representatives and they are eating out of You-Know-Who’s hand.”

If anyone wasn’t taking the _Blood Dispatch_ seriously before, they should now. We are watching history unfold, and it is what we do now with the knowledge that we have that will determine how this plays out.


	19. Chapter 19

On an April Saturday soon before students would leave for Easter break, Lily met Dorcas and Mary at the bottom of the marble staircase. Dorcas carried a cardboard box. They milled around with a few dozen other students who were waiting for the sign to leave for Hogsmeade from the chaperoning teachers. The crowd of students was much smaller than usual, especially for the weather that awaited them, which was springlike: the ground was muddy and wet, shoots were coming up and though the air was still chilly, the sun was warm.

"So?" said Dorcas.

"I just spoke to her," said Lily. "Pomfrey said that the poison had been masked by other toxic ingredients but now that she knows, she can give Alfred the antidote without further complications. He should be up by the end of the day."

Dorcas and Mary breathed sighs of relief. They began to move forward among the students, out the door and across the grounds into the fresh April air. Dorcas’s face darkened.

"And Snape?" she said. Lily sighed deeply.

"Well, I told Dumbledore, and apparently someone was sent to the old chapel where I saw him with his materials, but, I think he cleaned it all up. And, without proof—"

"There’ll be no consequences," Dorcas finished, gritting her teeth.

"I’m sorry," said Lily, resting a hand on Dorcas’s arm, who looked away for a moment before turning to look at Lily and Mary as they left the gates and started down the path that lead to the village.

"The aurors almost had Dumbledore cancel this Hogsmeade trip," said Dorcas. "My brother told me, his office is very agitated by the rallies and the explosions and the new department head."

"Its nice to get out to the village," said Mary. "But no wonder not many students opted in, who wants to go hang out with the fuzz."

"You mean coppers?" Lily imagined battenburg-checkered constabulary walking around Hogsmeade with thick, menacing batons. Mary nodded.

"You heard what McGonagall said about Department of Magical Law Enforcement Patrol in the village in case there’re more rallies? They’re wizard coppers."

As they neared the village, Dorcas reached into her box, withdrew a few newsletters and handed them to Lily, who inspected it. Printed on grayish newsprint paper, the ink was dark blue. The masthead read _Veritas_ in large block print letters, with a subheading that read: _Written by and for students of Hogwarts in pursuit of Truth_. Just underneath was Alfred’s front page article about the _Blood Dispatch_ , co-written with Dorcas, with information from his anonymous source. Lily flipped it open. Her editor’s letter was inside, as well as a short article written by Bridey Hannigan about escaping through the tunnel from the first Purist rally. Remus, under a pseudonym, had offered a list of safe places in Hogsmeade for muggleborn students to go, and Marlene McKinnon had written a short essay about muggleborn assaults that happened at the school in the last decade.

"I’m quoted in that," said Mary, pointing to Marlene’s essay.

"She doesn't use your name," said Lily, looking closer. Mary shrugged. Lily looked at her but she had already moved on to something else, letting her dark brown fringe fall into her eyes as she dug around in her pocketbook. Lily knew. Mary would tell her own story when she was ready. And when she did, Lily would be the one to print it.

In the village, Lily, Mary and Dorcas began handing out newsletters in earnest, to students and to the witches and wizards who lived and worked there. Madam Rosmerta, Aberforth of the Hog’s Head Inn, and the pimply recent Hogwarts grad who was the manager of Zonko's. As they went, Lily could spot the Patrol in fluorescent yellow robes with white stripes down the sleeves, and a dark blue band across their upper backs, which were emblazoned with white letters that spelled PATROL.

Passing the barbershop, Lily waved to Doc Johnson who was standing outside, smoking a pipe. Doc Johnson waved back and Lily approached, clutching her stack of newsletters. She presented one to him.

"Would you like one of our newsletters, sir?"

"Certainly, thank you, Miss Evans," Doc smiled toothily. Lily handed one to him, and he shook it open and peered at it thoughtfully as he puffed away on his pipe. Lily placed a short stack of newsletters on a table just inside the shop before moving on to the next establishment.

Passing the fancy restaurant Le Petit Centaure, Dorcas caught up with her.

"I don’t think we should go in there," said Dorcas. "It’s a bit of a Pureblood club."

"How do you know," said Lily.

"Well, my family’s pureblood, so I hear things," shrugged Dorcas, pulling her maroon sweater tighter around her shoulders. "Besides, Abraxas Malfoy’s always in there doing dirty deals with Wizengamot members. My dad hates his guts. Barely anything he does is legal."

Lily nodded, and walked past. Looking through the windows she could see gilt framed mirrors and waiters walking around with ankle length white aprons, holding trays aloft.

Boisterous shouts drew Lily's attention down the street as she spotted some of the Gryffindor Quidditch team boys. Gideon Prewett's fiery red hair sent a momentary shock down Lily's spine. Lily watched him walk down the street laughing jovially, exchanging playful punches with the boys. Lily took a deep breath and found she felt a little wistful. Gideon met her eyes briefly before looking away as if he had never seen her. As Lily continued down the street, she puzzled for a brief moment about the things she had done to hurt his feelings, and the things he had said to make her feel ashamed, but she was distracted by what looked like an open mechanic’s garage.

Instead of cars parked with hoods up exposing oily metal innards, brooms were stacked long the walls of the garage. A man sat outside, studying and polishing an old Comet-something, while Potter and Pettigrew looked on studiously, their arms crossed, their chins nodding in solemn understanding. Lupin and Black stood a step back, watching too, Blacks arm around Lupin’s shoulders, as if he were holding him steady. As Lily drew closer, Potter’s eyes shifted to her, and she couldn’t help but slow down. She felt her stomach flip unpleasantly, and she didn’t know what she wanted to say, but in light of everything she now knew, and all that had happened in the last few weeks, she felt compelled to face him.

Potter stepped away from the broom-studiers and approached Lily, whose nose was met with the strong smell of pine and grease. It was not altogether unpleasant.

“Hello, Potter,” she said.

“Alright, Evans,” Potter said carefully.

They didn’t speak for a moment. The silence was deafening. Lily looked for something to soften it. She jerked her chin in the direction of the brooms.

"I’ve never seen a garage for brooms," she said.

"A what," said Potter, screwing up his face.

"A garage? For fixing cars? Only for brooms, I suppose." Lily felt she was babbling to fill the silence.

"I don't know what you’re saying," said Potter matter of factly. He gestured behind him. "This is a Broom Cupboard. That’s Pete’s uncle Ben, he’s a Besomologist— he buys, sells, and repairs secondhand brooms," added Potter, seeing the look on Lily’s face. It was her turn to be a little confused. They were quiet again for a moment, and struggled to find something to look at that wasn’t each other. Lily paused to watch three hooded wizards pass in the street before she remembered the newsletter. She pulled one out and handed to him. He scanned it quickly before grinning and briefly looking at her the way Hagrid looks at his prize pumpkins. Fortunately, Lily always thought it was a sweet look. She blushed a bit under his proud glance.

"It looks brilliant, Lily," he said. "I can’t wait to read it." He folded it carefully and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. He took a deep breath and now fixed her with a much more somber look.

"I’m sorry," he said.

"No, I’m sorry," said Lily hurriedly.

"I don’t want you to think badly of me," he said. "But I’ve done the things I’ve done and I’m trying to do better. I’m trying to be better."

Lily nodded, wishing this conversation would just end, though not without saying what she knew needed to be said. She braced herself.

"I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, said Lily. "Black told me."

"So you know about R—"

"Yeah," Lily nodded. James looked pained. 

"Please don’t say—" 

"I won’t, of course, you know I would never," said Lily in a red rush.

Potter met her green eyes with his own hazel and nodded. He seemed calm again, and content with her answer.

"And do you know about the— you know— the rest," he mumbled.

Lily smiled. "Well, I have made a few guesses."

"Mind if we leave it at that for now?" Potter was rubbing the back of his neck. Lily could sense the anxiety he was trying hard to hide. She smiled.

"I suppose we will have to, yes. But I will get answers eventually."

Potter smiled. He looked like he didn’t mind if she kept asking questions. Lily cleared her throat, smiled back and continued walking down the street. Potter walked back over to Lupin, Black, Pettigrew, and his uncle, who was inspecting the end twigs, but when Lily looked over her shoulder, she could tell that Potter had just turned his head after watching her walk away.

As Lily continued walking down the street, handing out her newsletter, she noticed a shift in the air. It was suddenly a bit chilly; the sun had disappeared behind a cloud.

There were more people in the street now, people she didn’t recognize. She felt a strong surge of foreboding wash over her. It was the Halloween rally all over again. Lily quickly scanned the crowds in the street for her friends. All she could see were wizards in dark-colored cloaks, their hoods over their heads, hiding their faces, and among them, the pops of fluorescent yellow that indicated the presence of the Patrol.

As Lily watched, a rowdy element overtook the crowds. As they grew, some jostling was beginning to take place; the volume in the street began to rise. Lily could make out what they were saying in loud threatening tones:

"—Alright there, mudblood?"

"—Why don’t you go home to your muggles, you animal!"

"—How dare you show your face here!"

Lily’s heart constricted as she caught a man staring at her from underneath his hood. Lily clutched the stack of newsletters more tightly in her arms, just as one slipped out and landed in the wizard’s outstretched hand, his wand aloft— he’d just _accio_ ’d a copy of _Veritas_. He squinted at it and sneered.

"How easily you mudbloods make a mockery of wizardry," he growled, stepping toward her.

Lily, feeling sick, quickly tucked the newsletters under her arm, and with her wand in her pocket, whispered _confundus_ as she stepped backward. The wizard was suddenly distracted by a shiny knut in between the cobblestones, and Lily lost him in the crowd. She headed back to the Broom Cupboard, the nearest shop, struggling to steady her breath and calm the sickening feeling in her stomach.

As she came up on the entrance, she saw Pete’s uncle Ben putting away the brooms and lowering the gate. Potter approached Lily just as a loud sound like a firecracker rent the air, causing both of them to flinch, and look around them quickly. A loud jeer rose up from the crowd as terrified students ducked and covered their heads.

"They’re not doing anything, the Patrol," growled Potter. 

The Patrol was strolling the streets, barely cocking an eyebrow as the crowds of grown wizards threw slurs and noisemaking spells. Potter was incensed. He looked down at her, his face hard, his eyes blazing. He seemed to notice that Lily was clutching her newsletters close, looking pale. He touched her arm, causing her to look up directly at him.

"C’mon," he said. He lead her under the half-closed gate and into the Broom Cupboard workspace, where the smell of pine and grease was very strong. Brooms on special stands gave off the air of complicated, time-consuming spells that were left mid-cast. The unfinished conjurations gave Lily an anxious feeling, and her wand vibrated a little in her pocket. The smell of enchanted potions was strong.

Potter led her into the back of the workshop where he opened a cabinet in the wall under a workbench. He took the stack of newsletters from her and placed them in the back of the cabinet, behind some tools and a wool work cap. The shop would have been a nice place to hide from the Purists.

“Maybe you should stay here,” said Potter.

“No,” said Lily. “I have to find Mary.”

Potter looked down at Lily, just as she looked up at him. At first, he seemed ready to argue with her. Lily stuck out her chin. If he wanted a fight, he’d get one. Their eyes seemed to have a silent conversation. Potter sighed and ducked under the gate. Lily followed.

Potter lead them back out into the daylight, and when they emerged from the workshop, Uncle Ben brought the gate all the way down, and pulled out his wand.

The crowd was worse. Noisemaking spells were going off every few minutes, the wizards were pushing and shoving people in the street. Some of them were so loud and careless, Lily was sure they were drunk. Finally she spotted Dorcas and Mary on the other side of the street, in front of Doc Johnson’s barber shop. Lily pointed them out to Potter and Pete, and they made their way into the crowd.

As soon as they stepped in, Lily felt the strength of the current. Turning so as not to lose sight of Potter, she automatically reached out at the same moment that he did, and they clasped hands. As they did, a collective, guttural growl of rage rose up into the air and the force of the crowd intensified. Lily looked up. Just as Dorcas reached her and they clasped hands, there was a flash, bright as lightning, and someone screamed.

The noise reached its peak, and the crowd became both a stampede and brawl. The lightning multiplied too, came faster and closer. Lily realized quickly that it wasn’t lightning, they were spells, and people all around them, if they weren’t running, were falling. Lily could feel Potter’s grip on her hand tighten as the crowd came between her and Dorcas.

Lily raised her head and her eyes met with those of the hooded wizard. He seemed less confunded now, and he raised his wand. Even though Lily responded quickly, she would remember it later as if it had happened in slow motion. A _Stupefy_ , a shield charm. It was as quick as a single breath, in and out.

The man hit back at her again and again with spells she didn’t know, and Lily shielded again and again. She couldn’t look back to know what Potter was doing, but she could feel his body press against her back, and his wand arm whipping this way and that. Lily was sure he was dueling with someone too.

Finally, Lily found an opening and lobbed an _Impedimenta_ jinx, causing the wizard to stumble. At the same moment, she heard Potter shout _Petrificus Totalus_ , just as Lily could see Patrol out of the corner of her eye. _Good_ , she thought. Crowd control.

“Drop your wand, put your hands above your head!” came the command amid the screaming and the spells, even as cloaked and hooded wizards rushed past Lily and Potter.

Lily felt the sudden urge to drop her wand and do as Patrol demanded, but she resisted. They couldn’t possibly mean her, she was a student, and she was defending herself.

Just as the thought occurred to her that she finally felt a bit protected by the presence of Patrol, she was hit by a spell. She fell, screaming, to the ground, unable to move. She realized quickly that her hands and feet had been bound in metal. Her wand rolled into a gap between cobblestones. Next to her, she could hear Potter shout, grunt, and fall as he too was apprehended. Shadows fell over them as three officers approached. Lily screamed again as the weight of a Patrol boot pressed her face against the cobblestone.

All around them, Patrol were finally arresting wizards. Some were the cloaked rioters, their wrists and ankles bound in metal. But as wizards ran this way and that, and as Patrol subdued the crowd, Lily could see flashes of terrified student faces, pressed against the cobblestone, faces streaked with tears, their wrists and ankles bound in metal and contorted in pain. Lily was horrified and aghast. Wizards were beginning to stop in the street and turn on the spot, but they weren’t going anywhere, as an anti-disapparition jinx must have been cast by Patrol.

As the boot lifted from the side of her face, and the Patrol wizard walked a few yards away to speak to other Patrol wizards, the crowd thinned and Lily could see people lying motionless on the ground. Witches and wizards who’d been knocked out by spells. Lily’s heart gave a lurch as she recognized the brown hand and black curls of a witch just yards from her, on the ground, motionless. Terrified tears sprang to her eyes. Lily did not want to think about what it meant to see her like that.

She gazed up frantically, and turned her head to see Potter on the ground next to her, similarly bound, his face bruised, his lip bleeding. He was breathing hard through his nose. Lily looked into his eyes, and he seemed to read her terror, her doubts, and her confusion all at once. He blinked once, slowly, as if in pain. A shadow above him caught Lily’s eye, and she watched figures pass, turning her head to follow them.

Wizards in dark blue robes, some of them with robes that were emblazoned on the back with white letters that spelled AUROR, others wore the red and white robes of medi-wizards. Lily watched, unable to breathe. One auror ran over to Dorcas, a tall brown-skinned man with a still-young face contorted with worry. He knelt down and was looking closely at her. Then he stood up, called over one of the Patrol, and launched into an angry rant, flailing his hands, knitting his brow, though Lily could not hear what he was saying. He was demanding something, which he could do, as the officer’s superior. A medi-wizard was called over and Dorcas was lifted onto the stretcher, and carried away. The tall Auror looked frustrated and angry. He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed before sweeping his arm behind him, and issuing another command to the officer.

Turning her head against the cobblestone, Lily scanned the scene, and, against the door of the barbershop, she caught sight of Sirius, who was bruised, his hair and clothes in disarray. His arms were wrapped protectively around Remus and Mary, her face bloody and streaked with tears.


	20. Chapter 20

Lily sat on a chair in the infirmary. Around her, Pomfrey bustled this way and that, muttering irritated asides as she directed Slughorn and Asante in applying ointments, healing potions, and wrapping bandages to injured students and teachers. 

The cuts and bruises on Lily’s face, wrists, and ankles had been swiped with a smelly green gel and covered with plasters. Beside her, Potter poked at the cut on his lip, until Slughorn slapped his hand away.

The beds were filled with students. Many had minor injuries like Lily and James, the results of overzealous Patrol, or getting knocked down by spells. But a few were recovering from hexes that had left them with leeks coming out of their ears, or with legs that stuck together, or arms that had turned to jelly.

Several beds over from Lily, Dorcas sat up arguing with the tall auror who was pacing alongside her bed and struggling to keep his voice down.

“You can’t just walk into a riot, Dorcas! Something really terrible could have happened to you! Mum and dad make me responsible for you when you’re at school and you can always count on me, you know that. But I am seriously questioning your idea to become an auror if you can’t use your head!" 

Dorcas tried to interject but the tall auror, clearly her brother, was flailing his arms in an exasperated fashion.

"You’re not an auror yet! You need to stop acting like one! They go through years of training before they even enter the field—"

"I—"

"You’re still in school!"

"I’ll be of age this year—!" Cried Dorcas. It was clear they'd had various iterations of this argument before. Her brother made a pained face. 

"Why can’t you just have fun like a normal person? Why can’t you just be the kid that you are? Have a bloody childhood?"

"I can’t do that, Kin!" Dorcas pleaded. "You and I both know that with all this stuff going on, there is no normal! There is no childhood! Not when my friends are being hexed in the streets! They’re not giving us a choice—"

"I’d say take it outside," said Pomfrey, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked past Dorcas's bed. "But my patient needs to stay and recover and you're not helping, Mr. Shacklebolt!"

Kingsley raised his hands in defeat and as he turned to leave, he pivoted on the spot and pointed his finger at Dorcas.

"We’re not done talking, sis. I've got to tell mum and dad—"

"Don’t!"

"Mr. Shacklebolt, if I have to say it again I will have you thrown bodily from the room!"

The ward grew quieter and Lily felt her eyelids grow heavy. After the heart-pounding, breathtaking, and enraging events of the afternoon, Lily was patched up, healing, at least physically, and surrounded by adults she trusted, their hushed voices and steady footsteps. She drifted off...

* * *

 

When Lily opened her eyes again, the sky on the other side of the windows had grown dark.

The ward was quiet. Lily moved slightly in her chair. There was a crick in her neck. Beds that had been occupied earlier in the afternoon were empty and neat. Potter was still dozing beside her.

Lily could hear voices whispering down by Dorcas’s bed. Kingsley was back. With a jolt, Lily realized that Alfred was awake. In the dark, Lily could see their silhouettes. She stilled herself enough to hear their voices, hoping to know how Alfred was doing.

"They say it was a rock," said Kingsley in a low voice, bass rumbling. "Just one. It hit a Purist. No one knows who threw it. But several eyewitnesses… Anyway, there will most likely be an inquiry, of course," he sighed heavily. "The slow reaction of Patrol, and their treatment of the students will have to be investigated."

Dorcas made a disgusted sound.

"What, are you surprised?" scoffed Alfred. "Did you think you could trust coppers? I’m not surprised. Muggle, magic, doesn’t matter, coppers are all the same."

There was a tense silence. Lily could imagine the hurt but quizzical looks on Dorcas and Kingsley’s faces. When Alfred spoke again, his voice was a touch softer.

"I was at Notting Hill Carnival last summer. There was a riot then too. They searched our pockets, beat us with billy clubs.” There was a pause. “Just 'cause of the color of our skin. I’m Black and I’m muggleborn, hated twice over in this country. That’s why Patrol doesn’t surprise me. Sorry, Kingsley."

"No, no, it’s—" Kingsley sighed. "Sometimes our dad would come home from work, angry 'cause of something someone had said to him at work that day."

"There was that one night," said Dorcas.  “It was raining. He was so upset. He said, ‘They’re gonna tell you all that matters is your wand, what you can do with it. That there’s no difference between you and them. But there are differences. And they’ll ignore them until it’s inconvenient to continue.’ ”

"Yeah, I remember, I was home from school. Might've been sixth year, your age now. Teachers tell you it’s about the classes you take, the exams you pass. But they don’t understand that when you’re in the school corridors, or in the office, they’ll look at the color of your skin or the curl of your hair, or talk to you different because you’re a girl. In the end you’ll have to work twice as hard to get half as far."

"Well, Dad also said not to let them keep you from going after what you want. I plan on not letting them get in my way," said Dorcas defiantly.

"I know," scoffed Kingsley. But Lily could tell by his softened tone that he was giving Dorcas a kind, brotherly look.

"This is where I live now," Alfred whispered. "This is my home, and I won’t let anyone scare me into leaving."

There was silence, before Kingsley spoke in a low voice.

“Dorcas, do you know what knocked you unconscious?”

There was a beat before Dorcas responded.

“All I know is I was hit by a stunner,” she said. “Rioter, or Patrol, I don’t know. Honestly, it could have been either.”

Lily was listening so intently that she was startled by Madame Pomfrey, who appeared suddenly at her side.

"You can go now Miss Evans, Mr. Potter."

Potter jerked awake with a snort before getting up and stretching. At the other end of the ward, there was silence. Lily followed Potter out the door of the infirmary into the flickering fire light of the castle corridor.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Veritas

May 31, 1977

_You are holding in your hands the second issue of the Veritas newsletter, Hogwarts's answer to the Blood Dispatch and a safe space for muggleborn witches and wizards to express themselves._

_The riot has left us all shaken. Dumbledore put a stop to all Hogsmeade visits for the foreseeable future until the Blood Dispatch is no longer a threat. The riot is being investigated by numerous departments in the Ministry of Magic._

_But what does it mean for muggleborn students like you and me? How are we coping with the inquiries, the legislation, the school's board of governors? The taunts of our classmates?_

_Well, we're not sitting back and doing nothing._

_In this second issue you'll find Alfred Dean's interview with the auror Kingsley Shacklebolt about how the ministry is handling the fallout from the riot. There are tips from Benjy Fenwick about how to protect yourself when not at Hogwarts. And finally, introducing a new advice column entitled Dear Miss Madd, here to answer our first anonymous question: Why do wizards love Quidditch so much?_

_And, as always, we ask, who is fighting for us, if we don't?_

_Goodbye for the summer. See you next year._

_Signed,_

_Lily Evans,_

_Editor-in-Chief_

* * *

Spring 1977

The Competitive Studiers of Gryffindor Tower emerged every year at exam time. They seemed to constitute from the air, from dust particles floating through blades of sunlight, from the white blossoms of the black-stemmed Moly, from the spring mud like particularly annoying golems. Daily, their debates with Ravenclaw students devolved into shouting matches and occasionally into fist fights that prefects were forced to run up and mediate. As the mild panic of exam time gripped the castle, Lily bent her head and did her best: reviewing her notes, memorizing dates, finding empty classrooms in which to practice spells, jinxes and hexes. It was a welcome distraction after the life-threateningly dangerous chaos of the past year.

She watched with mild amusement as Gideon landed in hospital after he’d consumed too much coffee and pepperup potion in his rush to finish mock NEWT exams. Pomfrey administered a calming draught and issued a warning. It was reported that Gideon responded with a weak “It was worth it.”

She smiled furtively as Potter patiently went over the Golpalott’s Third Law with Peter:

“But, if this is Golpalott’s Third Law, what were his First and Second Laws?”

“I don’t know, Pete,” sighed Potter. “Guess we’ll find out next year, won’t we.” Potter looked up then and caught Lily’s eye. He winked, causing Lily to break out in a grin. They both turned away as if they’d never looked at each other.

Lily laughed whole-heartedly after the History Of Magic Exam let out: Potter and Black had managed to spend the entire exam on their brooms, calmly hovering at their desks as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Professor Binns had registered nothing amiss.

Alfred, fully recovered, consumed cup after cup of tea at his desk which was piled high with parchment covered in all directions with curvy script. Mary got up often from her desk to pace and pull her hair into a ponytail, only to shake it out again in a dark brown mass. Dorcas has Marlene quiz her on muggle studies, convinced it would be the exam she'd failed:

"You're not grasping the _concept_ of the telephone—"

"But _why_ would you rig up wires to talk to people when you can _floo_ —"

"That's not—argh!"

Meanwhile, Lily sat her exams, praying she would pass by the skin of her teeth.

* * *

 

With the exams behind her, Lily tried to clear her mind and relax. But every time she tried, ideas for the newsletter came to her. She soon found she needed to have a quill and parchment ready to jot them down. With just a few days to go before the end of term and the Hogwarts Express home, she came to enjoy sitting underneath a tree at the lake’s edge, watching the giant squid play in the lake shallows and taking notes.

She was surrounded by flutterby blooms and dandelions, all her focus on the parchment before her, and the careful lines she drew with her quill. She looked up as someone settled down beside her in the dappled shade.

“Potter,” she smiled. “Alright?”

“Alright and you,” he said. He gestured at her parchment.

“Plans for the newsletter?”

Lily brightened. “Yeah, it’s the editorial schedule next autumn. Alfie and Dorcas have lots of ideas, and we’ve even had one or two students come to us with pitches.”

They watched as Gideon and his friends rolled each other around in wheelbarrows. Lily felt Potter glance at her.

He began to ask the question she didn’t want to hear. “How are things between you and—”

Lily looked hard at her parchment. “Still pretty cold,” said Lily softly. “Awkward. I hurt him, I think.”

“Why’d you two break up,” said Potter, gathering folding his brown forearms over his knees.

“Lily smiled sadly. Then, she chuckled softly. “Well, if you can believe it, he thought I was— heh— that I was in love. With you.”

Lily looked up to see Potter’s eyes searching her face. She felt her stomach flip. She tried to smile to cover the sudden onset of unexpected feelings.

“Isn’t it a load of bollocks,” she tried to laugh. Instead, it came out in a whisper as her eyes met his. They locked. Potter swallowed.

“Is it?”

They broke their gaze, and looked out at the lake, to the cranes, the swans, the giant squid, and were quiet.

* * *

The evening sun filtered through the high, mullioned windows of the Great Hall as the End-of-Term feast kicked off. Dumbledore had just finished announcing the winner of the house cup, and the effervescent air of celebration at Ravenclaw table was spilling over into good will at Gryffindor table.

“Well, what do you lot reckon,” said Sirius through a mouthful of roast. “Can I cross rioting off my bucket list then? Let’s see what’s next? Anyone know where I can get a motorcycle?”

Amid the laughter, and the suggestions, Lily leaned forward to talk to Dorcas over the platter of steamed vegetables.

“We’ve gotten into a fair bit of trouble this year,” she said with a crooked grin.

“You haven’t stopped being my friend,” said Dorcas.

“No, I haven’t,” Lily smiled. Then her smile fell a little. “Though, I do wish Snape had got some form of justice for what he did. Even if the poisoning couldn’t be properly traced back to him.”

“Oh, he got what was coming to him,” said Dorcas with an air of satisfaction. “Everything he's eating today is turning into toads on his tongue.”

Lily laughed. As she did, she caught sight of Mary, looking a bit glum.

“What’s the matter, Mary,” Lily asked.

Mary let her shoulders fall. “I’m afraid I failed my exams. I just found out I’m on academic probation. I’m in danger of not graduating next year!”

“Oh Mary!” exclaimed Dorcas. “We’ll help you study! Anything you need, just say the word.”

Marlene and Alfred nodded along in agreement as Mary smiled weakly. Flashes of parchment down the table caught Lily’s eye.

“What’s that,” she asked Peter, who was handing something back to Potter.

“Prongs just got into the work placement program at the Wizengamot,” said Peter.

Lily didn’t let the use of the odd nickname put her off. She smiled at Potter.

“Congratulations,” she said. “I’m doing the work placement at the Daily Prophet. So I’ll probably see you around,” she said.

“Yeah!” Alfred interjected. “I’m doing that too, Daily Prophet as well. Figured I liked writing for the newsletter so much, maybe I’ll join the Daily Prophet staff after graduation.”

“And we will be seeing you around,” Marlene said over the Tiramisu. “I’m doing the Ministry Archives placement, and I just learned that we’re all living in the same house this summer. Near Whitehall.”

“I’ll be in the Auror department,” said Dorcas, a coffee cake crumb flying off her lips in her excitement.

“See you around then,” said Sirius. “I got a job at the Leaky Cauldron. Pete, what are you doing this summer?”

Pete shrugged. “Working at my uncle’s Broom Cupboard.”

“Not bad Wormy,” said Potter, giving his friend an encouraging pat on the back. “And Remus has got a gig at Flourish & Blott’s—”

“Yeah, let me know if you want any books, I’ll give you my employee discount.”

Lily looked around her, at all her friends. Dorcas and Marlene, pressed side-by-side, swapping turkey legs and carrots; Mary chatting animatedly with Alfred, who chortled at the appropriate moments; Peter describing something to Remus, flailing his arms about, and in so doing, accidentally smacking Sirius on the back of the head several times as he and Potter shuffled Exploding Snap cards over their treacle tart. Passing newsletters between them, sharing their summer plans, and she thought: _This is what I want._ To be surrounded by her friends, to be surrounded by heart. For her love to live under everything they do. For her love to be their foundation. She grinned at everything, and at nothing in particular.

“Hey,” said Peter. “Where’s Asante?”

“Haven’t seen her all week,” said Alfred. “Thought she might be out sick.”

“Let’s go see if she’s in her office,” said Lily. "It’d be nice to say goodbye and thank her for all her help this year.”

Dorcas agreed. They stood up to leave the Great Hall.

“I’m coming with you,” said Alfred pushing his chair back. Mary stood up with him.

“So am I,” said Potter. Remus, Sirius, and Pete all stood up as well.

They all clamored up the marble staircase, made a clatter marching down the corridor, and entered the unlocked Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door.

Ascending the stairs to her office, Lily tried the door. She looked back at Dorcas.

“It’s locked,” she said. Lily and Dorcas exchanged looks. Lily moved aside as Dorcas stepped up to the lock, and waved her wand. _Alohomora_ , as well as something special her brother had taught her, opened the latch, and the door swung open.

The office wasn’t just deserted: the window was open, papers had been strewn about, a chair upturned and the printing press was churning out parchment.

They stepped inside one by one. Lily went to the desk and touched the papers— lesson plans, a postcard, quills, an ink bottle left open, its ink dried.

Potter went over to inspect the chair and the window. Sirius, Remus, Mary and Alfred looked around the room, their mouths agape. Dorcas called to them, holding a piece of parchment that the printing press had spun out.

“Look,” she said. She pointed to a single symbol, a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside a circle, letterpressed into the middle of the page. Lily came out from behind the desk, and approached Dorcas.

“What is it, what does it mean?”

“It means,” said Remus, a troubled look on his face as everyone turned to him, holding their collective breath.

“It means our teacher has been kidnapped.”

End of part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Thank you for reading my little fic. I left a lot out mostly cause I just wanted to get it down, put it out. I might go back and fill things in, or I might fill in the blanks as I go on later. Anyway, I have a ton of writing to do in the real world. HOWEVER, more is on the way! Summer 1977, 7th year, everything up to Halloween 1981, I'm drafting it as we speak! So stay tuned, don't touch that remote, stay where you are, etc, etc. Love you, xoxo.


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